And so it begins
by TheRottenJas
Summary: One-shots and drabbles that don't fall into any other collection. Beware: Dark content (warnings when appropriate) will sometimes appear. Current: Husband number 7 has got to go, Blaise thinks.
1. You Were Right

**A/N:** So, this is a collection for all those fics that fail to go into any of my other collections! To be fair, this will mainly be drabbles that borderline M-rated stories and deal with serious subjects or stories that aren't pairing orientated. :)

 **The Restricted Section:** Shelf 123 - Write about a Death Eater

 **The Taboo Challenge:** #7 - Abortion

 ** _Warning(s)_ : **Mentions of abortion, no actual procedure.

 **W.C:** 613

 **Disclaimer** : No. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _You Were Right_

* * *

"You want me to do what?" Pansy all but practically shrieks, wrapping a protective arm around her stomach. Tears threaten to spill and her bottom lip trembles. "I-I'm scared," she whispers, rubbing her eyes.

It pained Draco to see Pansy act this way, but he couldn't let that . . . _mistake_ of his be born. "We're not ready for this! We're sixteen!" He runs a hand through his hair, almost pulling it out with the amount of force he uses. "We're sixteen," he repeats in a much calmer tone. "This is no time to raise . . . _it_."

"Use your words, Drakey," Pansy snaps harshly, motioning to her stomach. "It's a baby! A _baby_."

Draco winces, taking a few steps back. "N-No, it's not. It's a mistake." She scoffs, crossing her arms. "We were blowing off steam, and you know it."

Pansy narrows her eyes. "I thought we were making love."

"We never were."

"I want to keep it," she states, lifting her chin up in defiance. "It's mine, and I want to raise it."

"No," Draco sneers, "I won't allow that."

"It's just an innocent baby! It hasn't done any harm," she whimpers, placing both hands on her stomach. "It's still innocent. Maybe this baby deserves the chance to live."

"Pansy," Draco tiredly replies, pulling up his left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, "I'm a Death Eater. I don't want a horrible life for that baby."

Pansy bites her lip, but Draco can see that she is finally seeing reason. They stand there a few more minutes in heavy silence before she nods reluctantly. "F-Fine. I'll do it."

Draco smiles weakly, opening his arms to allow the Slytherin girl some comfort as her shoulders shake with her heart-wrenching sobs. "You're doing the right choice," he whispers soothingly, stroking her hair softly.

 _"Am I?"_

* * *

"You're embarrassing me," Scorpius Malfoy whines, swatting his mother's hand away. "I have to find a compartment soon since Al is always late."

Draco chuckles, ruffling Scorpius' hair before the younger boy walked away promising letters. He sighs and notices his wife trying to contain her tears. "Honey, you'll have to get used to this. He's coming back for the holidays."

Astoria narrows her eyes, "Look, Draco, when you carry a baby in your stomach for nine months and then cruelly watch your baby go off to boarding school, you will cry."

Draco laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "He's already in his third year."

"Shut up," she mumbles, into Draco's chest. With a small pop they apparate home. Astoria groans, looking at the time on the clock and slips her shoes back on. "I have to go to Pansy's soon. Daphne, Tracy, Millicent, and everybody's going to be there."

Draco grimaces, shrugging off his coat and trying to look anywhere but Astoria. "Is that so?" he hums softly.

"Yeah, it's a giant pity party, actually. And that makes it even more depressing to go to, you know?" Astoria rubs her shoulders before grabbing a handful of Floo powder. "This has to be the sixth baby she's lost. The mood is horrible. Daphne says something horrible happened to Pansy during the War making her unable to have babies. I can't imagine anything that awful. I feel so blessed with Scorpius that I feel awkward."

Draco closes his eyes, counting to three and waves goodbye at Astoria as she disappears through the Floo. All those years ago, back at the empty classroom, he knows that Pansy was right.

That baby did deserve to live, but it is far too late now to say ' _You were right_ ', not with those dead eyes staring back at him in a silent ' _I told you so'_.


	2. Love is not a choice

**Musical Chairs Competition III:** song: Girl/Girl/Boy by Panic! at the Disco

 **Word count:** 533

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _Love Is Not A Choice_

* * *

Lavender smiled, blowing kisses at Ron Weasley who was practicing his Quidditch. She blushed when he waved back and acknowledged her presence. Ron was no doubt one of the coolest boys this year.

"Are you ever going to talk to him?" Parvati asked, arching her eyebrow. She shuddered at the cold air and secured her scarf tightly. "I'm sick of this morning practices. Even better, I'm sick of having to accompany you to them."

Lavender frowned, watching Ron as he idly flew in circles. She bit her lip and sighed. "No one is forcing you to come with me," she remarked, pouting a bit.

"Great," Parvati replied, grabbing her school bag and standing. "I'm leaving."

"Wait! What?" She didn't except Parvati to actually leave. Her best friend usually stayed with her. "Are you serious?"

"I'm not going to freeze out here. Besides, Hermione has agreed to teach me a few things."

Lavender gasped, bringing a hand to her heart dramatically. "Hermione? As in Hermione Granger?"

"Yes?" Parvati answered, already walking down the stairs. "What of it?"

"We hate her!" She shrieked, narrowing her eyes. "Why are you going with her?"  
"I don't hate her. You do. Enjoy the practice, Lav."

* * *

Lavender was in a horrible mood. Nobody dared to cross her today. They avoided the girl in the corner of the common room. And the reason for her anger? Parvati and Hermione. Since Parvati left her that morning, she's been stuck like glue to the other Gryffindor girl, much to Lavender's displeasure.

"Hey, Lav Lav," Ron cooed, wrapping his arms around her. He completely disregarded the entire atmosphere. "What's wrong?"

"Hermione and Parvati. What's with that?" She glared at the two girls who whispered and giggled at another table.

"Hmm, I think they're dating?" He replied, scratching his head. Lavender froze, her eyes scrutinizing every gesture they made. "Or they're study buddies. I don't know which."

Parvati was a lesbian? Lavender was still trying to process that fact. Then it hit her. Was she jealous? Of Hermione Granger? _Again?_

"I'll go and see." She walked over to the two girls and smiled. "Hello! How's it going?"

"Okay?" Parvati and Hermione shared glances. "Good."

"Well, I wanted to know if you two were a thing," she stated bluntly, her smile still wide.

"Oh, no," Hermione answered, laughing a bit. "Parvati is just my friend. There's nothing else going on."

Parvati nodded, looking strangely at Lavender. "Er, can we talk, Lav?"

"Of course." They walked up the stairs and into their rooms. "So, what is it?"

"You know, I do like girls and boys. Is that a problem?"

Lavender shook her head, letting a breath out. "Oh, no! I just thought you liked Hermione. And, I wondered why it wasn't me?"

Parvati blinked. "What?"

"Well, if you were to love any girl, wouldn't it be me?"

"Were you jealous?" Parvati asked, crossing her arms. "That I was with Hermione?"

"Well, I'm lovable!"

"You're not my type, Lav." Parvati sighed, sitting on her bed. "Are we still friends? Even if I like both genders?" She asked hesitantly, biting her lip.

Lavender laughed, flopping herself on her own bed. "Don't be ridiculous. Love is not a choice."


	3. An Old Friend

**Hogwarts:** Games - Monopoly - Golden Snitch - Regulus Black

 **Drabble Club:** word - untimely

 **Word count:** 201

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _An Old Friend_

* * *

Death.

It appeared so untimely sometimes, creeping up on the unsuspecting until they uttered their last breath. It wasn't like that for Regulus. He knew what he was heading into when he appeared on that cave with his helper. It was unlikely he would make it out intact, so he had already prepared himself.

But still Regulus hoped Death would pass him by just this once.

Alas, it was not meant to be. Life flashed before his eyes reminding him of his childhood and of his past mistakes. It reminded him of Sirius, James, and of his mother. Two people he had done wrong to and one he would do harm to. He was here to fix those mistakes even if it was just to satisfy his ego. To right one wrong when he caused so many.

He gasped in pain when he felt their bony fingers wrap around his limbs. He was losing consciousness and his world would soon fade to black. His death was approaching and there was nothing anybody could do to stop it. Some things seemed to be sealed in fate.

He accepted it like he was greeting an old friend who should've come sooner, really.

Death.


	4. After Midnight

**A/N:** Surprisingly, I had a bit of fun writing this! This is set sometime in Hermione's Eighth Year.

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: **Arithmancy - Assignment 3: W _rite a story with at least four girls, in which one shows at least one trait from each number. These have been bolded to help you._ **Character: 4 - Prone to outbursts, Heart: 4 - Prefer Order, Social: 9 - Naive**

 **Hogwarts House Challenges:** Quidditch Pitch: "Keep your morals to away from me."; Drabble Club: word - tissues

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** _Titles taken from Songs_ \- After Midnight, _Words instead of Said_ \- exclaimed, _Charmed_ \- word: truth, color: blue, emotion: untrusting, action: crying, _Black Butler_ : action - blushing, emotion: disbelief, word - order

 **Word Count:** 773

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 ** _After Midnight_**

* * *

Hermione Granger did not view herself as a pushover. She was stubborn and hardly one to cross, but how exactly did she get herself surrounded by teenage girls playing truth or dare?

"Alright," Lavender exclaimed, shooting mischievous looks at her partner in crime, Parvati Patil, while she placed a bottle in the middle of the circle. Hermione herself was squished between Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. On the other end was Lavender, Parvati, Padma, and even Romilda. She didn't even know how the younger girl caught wind of this little affair. "The game is simple. You either pick truth or dare. That's it."

"Will there be a punishment if someone doesn't complete or refuses to do their choice?" Padma asked, raising a brow at the host. "I assume there is."

Hermione could tell by the smirk on Lavender's face that the punishment wasn't going to any good. She was a simple girl who liked order. There was no way this little game was going to get out of hand. "Ah, of course, Padma. If you refuse a truth or dare, you must sit out out of the game. No dare too outrageous and no truth too personal. No fighting over who can ask and respect one another."

Parvati and Lavender both groaned, shooting Hermione disbelieving looks. She counted that as a victory over them.

"Please, Hermione. Keep your morals away from me. I'll go first." Romilda called, reaching for the empty hairspray bottle. Everybody watched with excitement and, in Hermione's case, regret as the bottle spun slowly and landed on Ginny Weasley. It was quite a frightening sight to see Romilda smile with all teeth. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Ginny responded nervously. "I don't trust you enough for Dare."

"Pity. Anyway, how far have you gotten with the Chosen Boy? And don't you dare skimp out on the details!"

"Is that the only thing on your mind? For your information, Harry and I have only kissed." More than half the girls raised their eyebrows. "Fine. We've gotten to second base."

"Second base? So, he's groped you?" Hermione loudly asked, not wanting to picture someone who was like her sister and her brother. She was also sure Romilda had broken one of her rules. "That's pretty far."

"Not quite," Luna responded, the dreamy smile on her face slightly mischievous. Padma snorted, staring at Hermione like she was an idiot.

"Oh, honey, there's so much more that's entitled with second base. You're so naive!" Romilda laughed, waggling her eyebrows at the blushing Gryffindor girl. Hermione sputtered out a protest, but she found herself unable to deny the comment. "Spin the bottle, Ginny."

Now, Hermione has absolutely _had_ it with Truth or Dare. The perfect order she had established was gone and everything went downhill from there. She had tried. She really, _really_ tried to settle the rambunctious teenagers, but it was too late. Somehow one of them—she suspected Lavender—snuck in Firewhiskey. After a series of embarrassing Truths and Dares, the end result was horrible.

Romilda sat in the corner, wasting her tissue box and wailing about lost love. Hermione was certain she heard Ronald Weasley in her cries. Ginny was absolutely smashed making obscene gestures and retelling something about _fellatio_ to Luna and Padma. Hermione did _not_ want to know. She preferred to stay naive. Parvati and Lavender were busy doing a blue love potion which was bound to be a disaster since both girls were intoxicated, and she was sure the book they were reading was backwards. However, they were certain they were going to trap a boy.

"Enough is enough!" Hermione pulled out her wand, clearing the floor, and startled the girls into silence. They were shocked to see Hermione raise her voice at them. "Girls, close that damn textbook. Romilda, please, Ron isn't that wonderful, so stop wasting tissues. Ginny, I don't even know and I do _not_ want to know."

"What crawled up your ass?" Romilda huffed, though the words were a bit muffled because of the tissues. "You're happy with Ron!"

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, no. I'm not in a relationship with Ron. Get a grip!"

"This was interesting," Padma commented, a slight pink blush on her cheeks. "I didn't know this was fun."

"You've had your fun! Sleep. All of you." Hermione pointed to the sleeping bags and each girl reluctantly obeyed. "We're all waking up in three hours, which is at seven in the morning. Now, goodnight!"

Hermione turned off the lights, covered the mysterious potion, threw the pile of tissues in a bag, and made herself comfortable on her bed. She always did prefer order.


	5. Witch

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Ancient Runes - Assignment #3, Task 2: Write about a two faced character

 **Hogwarts House Challenges:** Quidditch Pitch - "You've got to believe me!"/Room of Requirement: 1920's Con Artist

 **Word Count:** 578

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 ** _Witch_**

It's a cold, night when the three women roll into the unsuspecting town of Hogwarts. But in the morning, the early risers see the new sign hanging in the house that was just bought.

' _Clairvoyant Trelawney Sees All'_

The town is hesitant at first when the see the open for business sign go up. All that witchcraft and supernatural wasn't really true, right? Hermione, the oldest daughter of Trelawney, thinks these people will never come to their house and that they'll have to set business elsewhere. It's slow, but people start lining up to see the medium at work.

" _She's not a fraud!"_

" _My dearest Norris spoke back to me! I heard things!"_

" _The lights flickered. I saw it."_

" _There was a chill in the air!"_

And, of course, the one comment that disagrees.

" _You've got to believe me! It's all fake."_

Hermione and her younger sister Lavender cater to their mother's wishes. Their mother seldom goes out of the house because of her delicate nature that communicating with the other side gives her. However, when she does, she is mild mannered, humble, and kind. It's Hermione and Lavender who must go out and bring back the required information.

"Look, girls," Trelawney says, blowing out the cigar smoke in Hermione's face. "Try harder. I almost got caught because you didn't bring all the information on the dead husband. The blasted Minerva almost didn't pay me too!"

Hermione nods, trying her hardest now not to cough. "Okay, mother."

"I'm going dancing tonight, so make sure no one comes in the house tonight no matter what!" Their mother smirks as she carefully picks up her black long hair wig and secures it on her head. "I haven't been to a club in ages and I need to dance off this steam."

"What about dinner?" Hermione asks, pointing to Lavender who is currently making sure all the gimmicks are functioning. "Last time you went out, we had nothing to eat."

She can see her mistake when her mother pauses and snarls, yanking Hermione's hair and lifting her up until she's on her tiptoes. "What did you say, you brat? You can't even feed your sister yet you dare talk back to me?" She slaps Hermione hard across the face. "I provide for you two with this job. Now, I'm going to go dance because it destresses me. The least you could do is be grateful!"

Hermione whimpers, but glares fiercely. "I act stupid! The people here think I'm mental, so they talk freely in front of me! I want to go to school and cut my hair."

Trelawney laughs, looking at her daughter in disgust and ridicule. "Of course, not. You'll get married with a nice, rich man."

"Mom, it's the 20's, already. Our job isn't just working! We can _vote_! Let's stop this fraud."

"Enough!" Her mother grabs Hermione by the ear and tosses her in a closet. Hermione cries in protest when her mother throws her in there. She smirks, gesturing to Lavender who is now practicing her fingers and toes cracking and moving the table. "The family business will continue."

"You witch," Hermione spits out.

It's then her mother smiles. "But, dear, I am one."

Hermione tries not to cry when she hears the door lock. Her mother isn't really communicating with the head. She's making profit by people's suffering and naivety. She only breaks down into sobs when she realizes her mother will probably never be caught.


	6. Entirely Mine

**2016 Multi-School Tournament:** Mahoutokoro School of Magic - prompt: (object) Quidditch Robes

 **Quidditch Pitch:** setting - The Quidditch Pitch

 **W.C:** 513

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _Entirely Mine_

* * *

 _Mine._

That was Ginny Weasley's first thought as she slipped into her Quidditch robes. It wasn't the first time she wore Quidditch robes, but that single thought always appeared when she put them on. It might have seemed like a trivial matter to others, but she adored her robes with a burning fever. It wasn't because she was glad to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team representing her house. She was, of course, happy to have gotten a spot while others weren't so fortunate, but, no, it wasn't that.

As she stepped onto the Quidditch Pitch that day, letting her robes flail behind her and the screams of the crowd excite her, she couldn't let the giddy feeling stay bottled up, and she laughed. It attracted some strange looks from her teammates, but they played it off by the joyful atmosphere of the match. This was her place. Right here on the Quidditch Pitch.

She wasn't wearing some of Katie's old Quidditch robes this time, but her very own. She wasn't replacing Harry as seeker either, but she finally got to play for her own desired position—Chaser. Last year she was absolutely frightened when she played seeker and had to calm herself down various times. Now she felt oddly relaxed when she mounted her broomstick. She knew why.

The Quidditch robes she wore was a symbol of accomplishment and pride. These were _her_ very own robes. Not some handy me downs from any of her older brothers, but _new_ robes. She earned the right to proudly wear these by her skill alone. She flew high into the air and grinned with happiness and a sense of belonging.

These emotions that coursed through her couldn't be taken away. Not even when the Slytherins mocked her when Hooch explained the rules. Their words didn't faze her today. She was powerful and it certainly showed in her playing. She scored goals after goals; she was at the top of her game.

They won, of course. Slytherin didn't stand a chance against them. Not when she felt omnipotent. The crowd went wild at their victory, and Ginny cheered and yelled herself almost hoarse. It was hard to hide her feelings of disappointment when they went into the changing rooms. With dread she took off her uniform. She felt almost as if her worth was stripped away, though, that wasn't remotely true.

Those Quidditch robes allowed her to be free of the identifier of the youngest Weasley sibling. When she had them on, she wasn't just _another_ Weasley. Her robes weren't something handed down to her like all her other belongings. She didn't like how they classified her in the Weasley clan, even if she loved her family and wouldn't change them. Yet she wanted to be known for something that was by her skill and talent alone.

The robes were entirely _hers_ , and that's the way she liked it. They couldn't compare her to Charlie, Fred, George, and even Ron. She was Ginny Weasley, Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

And a damn good one, too.


	7. Breaking Curfew

**A/N:** Well, I suppose this is my first official piece since being back from my October break. Lol, it wasn't supposed to be this dark? Enjoy!

 **Warning:** Brief mention of cheating/affair ; Does not follow HP timeline.

 **Word Count: 507**

* * *

 _ **Breaking Curfew**_

* * *

It was supposed to be a bit of nighttime fun. He didn't mean any harm. All he ever wanted was to brag about how cool he was because he stayed up late even _after_ his mother told him to sleep. He didn't see anything wrong with staying up a bit longer than his curfew allowed. Or, well, he _hadn't_ meant to see anything wrong. (Not that the boy knew it was wrong to begin with, he was still too young.)

It was the voices fault, really, not his. Maybe if they hadn't been too loud he would've never started walking in that direction. He would've kept right on walking to the library but it was then that he heard the softest of voices whisper _oh, not here, not so in the open._ He was confused because _wasn't that his mother's voice?_ He couldn't really hear it properly. It was muffled. He frowned and walked a few steps in the direction of the feminine voice that was soon joined by a deep, obviously _male_ voice. Hadn't his father gone to a trip today in the morning? So who could possibly be talking to his mother this late?

It was already ten o'clock! As far as the boy knew, his mother had gone to bed early, advising the servants to put him to sleep on time. Of course, that hadn't happened since he was roaming the Manor so late at night. As he stealthily tiptoed down the hallway, he heard the voices clearly.

" _Mmm, you forgot the charm, and I can see the door open,_ " his mother whispered, sounding as if she didn't have enough air. The boy wondered if something was wrong and if she needed help. He quickened his pace but he still made sure his steps were silent. " _You know my son, love. He might be out and about. Never listens."_

The boy stuck out his tongue and made made a face. He wasn't _that_ disobedient. He grinned when he saw his parents bedroom slightly open and a small sliver of lighting illuminating a section of the wall opposite. He increased his speed and forgot all about keeping it a secret from his mother.

" _If you insist, Cissy,"_ the man's voice sighed, the door closing shut by the end of his sentence. " _Muffliato."_

His uncle. Yes, the boy was sure that the other voice belonged to none other than his uncle who was the husband of his crazy, curly-haired aunt. Why was his uncle even there so late? It didn't make any sense. He decided to wait outside the door for a while longer before sighing and continuing his original goal. He could ask his mother in the morning if he really wanted to know.

(Of course, he forgot all about the question in the morning. The strange whispering between his mother and his uncle didn't resurface until he got older. It didn't matter much when pancakes were placed in front of him with his mother smiling happy the following day.

" _Are you happy, Draco?"_

" _Yes!")_


	8. Are you real?

**A/N:** This is Marius Black, an early member of the Black Family, who was disowned for being a squib, according to HP wiki.

 **Word Count:** 524

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _ **Are you real?**_

* * *

As the entire house slept, not a soul was awake save for little Marius Black. Like a mouse he went scurrying down the stairs, unseen by anyone alive (the portraits turned blind eye), until he drew a sharp breath and swung open the door. The creak from the door closing woke nobody up, and just like that, little Marius walked alone in the night.

Marius had a mission to complete and nothing would get in his way. He took long steps until he made it to the mailbox where he let out a small whoop of joy. With one quick movement, he took out the letter holding his hopes and dreams. There was a small struggle as he battled with the handle until he got it to open. Stealthily, he dropped his letter inside.

Marius nodded to himself and prayed for a second. He really wanted this letter to make it to the North Pole. There was a feeling of excitement and happiness, and he smiled all the way back to his house.

 _Dear Mr. Santa,_

 _Hello, my name is Marius Black. I am 10 years old. I'm not like the rest of the muggles you give presents. I come from a very fancy house, and I'm better than them. My mother always tells me that. Recently, my parents have started to whisper to each other and talk about me when they think I'm not listening. I seem them look at me and they use words I've never heard before. I don't know a 'squib' is and nobody wants to tell me. I think I rather never find out. My father always gets this look in his eye when my mother says it. I don't like the look._

 _I'm told that I'm not supposed to believe you. It's beneath my status. My parents say you're made up and that you exist only so the muggles can wish in something 'cuz their lives suck. I think it's because everybody wants to believe in magic. I'm writing you this letter because I want to believe you actually exist. I want to believe there is someone who gives things out for free. There is only thing I want for Christmas, Mr. Santa._

 _I want to do magic._

 _I beg of you, Mr. Santa, to help me. My siblings look at me funny and make fun of me. They say I'm useless because I haven't been able to do magic at all. I know that I can. I know that all I need is a push. I want to make my parents proud of me. If you are real, let me do magic. Give me my present, please._

 _Sincerely, Marius Black_

Marius arrived breathlessly at his house with a grin so wide his cheeks hurt. Somehow he began running back. He quietly opened to door and let himself in. He had done it. Marius Black was going to do magic. Maybe his father wouldn't give him cold looks anymore. He opened his room and slipped beneath his covers. It was like he never left. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

 _I hope I get my present._


	9. Addiction

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Care of Magical Creatures -** **Task:** Thinking about the relationship between elves and wizards, I would like you to write about a character finding the courage to leave a toxic relationship.

 **Word count:** 705

 **WARNING:** Mention of past drug abuse

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _ **Addiction**_

* * *

The first time it was a stress reliever. The second time it was rebellion. The third time it was addiction. But that was the problem with addictions, it made you come back again and again until Draco didn't know how many times he had returned or if he even left to begin with.

"Doesn't it look like they're calling you? That black car over there. That isn't possible since you told me you stopped, right?" Hermione looked questioningly at the sleek black car waiting at the school curb where a parent or guardian would usually pick up a student. She narrowed her eyes at the insistent honking and the stream of smoke steadily coming out from where the sun roof. "Draco, you said you broke up with her. Tell me that isn't one of her friends."

It was now that the guilt settled in. "I made up my mind that I would end things, but I haven't actually told her yet," Draco admitted, looking between Hermione and the car. Between his old friend and the pulling temptation of something morally _wrong._ Something which would shock his controlling and conservative parents. "Today. I'll tell her today," he quickly added, seeing Hermione's disapproving expression. "I should probably go."

Draco left in a hurry as to save himself from another lecture. He was an idiot. He was a rebelling idiot with an _addiction._ To be honest, all he wanted was to be stress free. That was what drove him to accept Pansy Parkinson's invitation. She was known for being a trouble kid and hanging out with bad influences that would shock many parents. His own parents wouldn't stop breathing down his throat about getting the perfect grades and following his father's footsteps. It was suffocating, to say the least. Pansy provided the complete opposite of what they wanted from him. It was a simple decision go say yes.

"Drakey," Pansy sneered, sitting in the front seat of Crabbe's car where she took a long drag from her cigarette, wearing black designer sunglasses, "I told you I don't like waiting. Stop making me wait because you were talking to that freak. You know that I'm much more important."

"She's my friend," he argued, his hand tentatively on the door handle. He shouldn't be getting in the car at all. He had already made up his mind on breaking up with Pansy. She was bad for him. She was _toxic_ in every literal sense. She was the one who introduced him to the world of alcohol and drugs. He had only recently stopped taking them and it was _awful._ The effects it left made him want to curl up and stay there for days. It made him _crave_ for it so desperately. As a result to the illegal crimes, his work suffered badly along with his health. The random nosebleeds couldn't be so easily explained as heatstroke if it happened one too many times.

Pansy simple laughed. "Whatever. Are you getting in or not?" She lowered her glasses and smirked. "Goyle's managed to score some quality green. You want in?'

He shouldn't. He wouldn't. The disappointment stares of his friends and family (only his mom, really, since he was positive she knew) troubled him. Draco couldn't stand their worrying glances because they gave him advice and tried so hard to help him. He liked Pansy, but he didn't like her bad habits. "Pansy, I can't." He shook his head and backed away from the car. He drew courage from their support and love as well as his own need to better himself to back away. "I can't be with you. This ends now."

Her expression fell in an instant and for a second he could see vulnerability before she hardened her eyes and took a long drag to blow the smoke right into his face. "Your loss."

Crabbe nodded at Draco before he started the car and they took off. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and only then noticed he was trembling. With shaky legs he turned around and found Hermione, Blaise, and Harry waiting for him right where he left her. They smiled and waved him over. For the first time in a long while, he felt strong.


	10. I go where you go

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** History of Magic - Task 5. First memorable Christmas / prompt: (word) change

 **Word count:** 724

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _ **I go where you go**_

* * *

It was the heat of the moment that made him do it. His cheeks were red and his legs were beginning to tire from all the running, but he was glad. Albus glanced at his blond companion by his side whose cheeks were equally flushed and whose expression was a mixture of annoyance and pleasure. Albus began to laugh at his stupidness because he probably caused Scorpius' parents to hate him which might make them ban him from ever seeing his best friend (and maybe something _more_ ) again. It was foolish to run. _He_ was an absolute idiot for taking Scorpius with him. But hearing how Scorpius burst out laughing and even tightened his hold on Albus' hand made him think it was worth it.

"You're an absolute wanker, Al!" Scorpius yelled sounding angry, though the teasing lilt in his voice was unmistakable. "Did you think of how much trouble I'll get in?"

Albus grinned, shaking his head 'no' as he slowed his pace. They came to a stop right outside Albus' home which was a few blocks away from Scorpius' house. (One of the many reasons he decided to run since it wasn't unreasonably far from where they already were.) "You know, we'll probably never see each other again," Albus sighed, closing his eyes.

He felt Scorpius' hands clench in his and wondered if the boy himself even realized what he had done. Either way the heat from his hand made Albus' cheeks burn. "What?"

"Your parents don't like me. I have literally kidnapped you from your place which doesn't put me on their nice list. Scorpius, I'm sorry," Albus rambled, unable to handle the way Scorpius looked up at him from under his lashes lost and confused. He wanted to make the look go away. "I just couldn't stand what they were saying, you know? Your parents have always been a little strict, but I never thought they would be so close minded."

A soft hand reached out to touch his face. "Don't blame yourself. I'm pretty happy," Scorpius responded, his smile wide and eyes crinkled. "Besides, you saved me from another boring Christmas party with all of father's coworkers and mother's snobby friends. It's a nice change."

That went right through Albus' heart and soul. "Well, I don't know if Christmas at my house will be any better, but I'll try to make it fun."

Hand in hand they made it up to the steps of his house. Albus, with much more confidence than he had and bright, red cheeks, introduced Scorpius to his entire extended family that had already gathered. Of course, his mom had a dangerous twinkle in her eye when she saw him. He was relieved that the rest of the relatives who lived far welcomed him with open arms to the family bonding. Albus, truthfully, had talked about Scorpius to his parents almost non-stop when he had first met the other boy back in middle school.

"Scorpius, you're always welcome here, you know that. I'm pretty excited that you're here! Isn't this the first Christmas your spending with us?" Ginny, his nosy mother, asked, smirking at Albus. "I'm sure because Albus always whines about how he never sees you on Christmas and that you're never here on this day."

"Mum, stop." Albus refused to look in Scorpius' direction. He could hear the snickers coming from him. "I don't do that every Christmas."

"Did you miss me that much?" Scorpius teased, nudging Albus' shoulder playfully. The pink tinge on Scorpius' ear made himself feel better.

"Anyway, we're glad you're here. I have called your parents to let them know where you are," Harry said, smiling at the two warmly. "You can stay the night if you wish. Your parents want to understand you better."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Scorpius grinned and let Albus lead him into the living room to play some games.

Albus would always remember this Christmas as the first to many. Unbeknownst to Albus at the moment (Scorpius would tell him all how he felt in the future), Scorpius would remember this Christmas because while his family was not necessarily cold, he loved the pleasant environment and the heat Albus provided since the black haired boy never really left his side. They both would remember how their hands were intertwined almost throughout the entire night.


	11. Commercial Lies

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Psychology - Write about someone who had to grow up too early

 **Word Count:** 615

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _ **Commercial Lies**_

* * *

The young woman covered in a blanket holding a cup of hot chocolate sat on the sofa being warmed up by the fireplace which was a few feet away. She must've been in her late twenties or so with shiny red hair, clear blue eyes, and a well endowed body. She was idly watching the television since she looked somewhat distracted and the volume was fairly soft. Harry watched attentively as the young woman was soon joined by a male companion with a black hair color and brown eyes, and a strong build. The woman didn't notice him at first, not until the man wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Harry watched as they snuggled together with big, dopey smiles. He watched with envy as a little boy came onto the scene and settled himself in between the married couple. The fireplace toasted them all up and let them settle into the night. Harry hated it.

A sharp pinch on his arm drew him away from the tellie in the shopping center. "Hurry up and go get this list of Dudley's presents while I get the other ones. Honestly, you stand around doing nothing! Make sure you don't forget a single one or else Vernon will know. Meet me at the cash register in a bit. Go!"

Harry nodded at his aunt and walked towards the giant chain store which held the best toys. He rubbed his arm as he walked in the store. One would think that he would be used to his aunt's pinches since she pinched him so often that he had small bruises forming. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with Harry. His arms were sore from cleaning the house, but he didn't want to invoke Aunt Petunia's wrath. There was a high chance she would tell Uncle Vernon which was far worse than having to endure pinches. Harry carefully made sure to get all the toys on the list, lest he forget something and have Dudley yelling which in turn made his aunt and uncle scream at him and give him punishments. He almost forgot all about the holiday commercial if not for the television screen in the store playing the same scene. The scene which made him green and red.

Harry was jealous of the little boy who had both his parents to comfort him because the boy couldn't sleep. Nobody ever comforted Harry when he couldn't sleep or when he got nightmares. The love which was plain obvious by the way the couple glanced at the boy made him sick. Then he was angry at the world for taking away his parents from him. It wasn't far that some people were handed golden spoons in life while some were left to eat with their hands. Harry always had the worst luck.

"What are you standing around for? You're so pathetic and worthless!" Aunt Petunia sneered, grabbing the bundle of toys from his hands quickly. "Just like your parents," she mumbled, handing over money.

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from throwing a tantrum. He just got the short stick in life and it was something he had to deal with. He wordlessly nodded and began carrying the bags. It would do him no good to argue. He knew the consequences to his actions. There was no way Harry could afford to have his meals lessened and bathroom breaks shortened, not when he already had to clean most of the house. These were things he was forced to learn from a young age.

"What are you waiting for? Walk!"

Harry knew by now. He stayed silent, ignoring the commercial as it played once more.


	12. Sweet Lullaby

**A/N:** For the ages, I kind of just made Rodolphus three years older since their ages are never specified, and Rabastan wasn't mentioned in the group of Death Eaters such as Lucius, Snape, etc.

 **Baton Pass Competition:** Team 5 - Drabble Writer; Optional Prompt: [word] Nightmare

 **Word Count:** 600

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 ** _Sweet Lullaby_**

* * *

It was always the deep growl of an unknown monster underneath his bed or in his closet howling for his death that appeared in his nightmares. Those god awful howls were what sent tremors down his entire body as a child. The terrors of the night were scary stories and long tales that his older brother told him about that his mind had morphed into something more deadly. To Rodolphus, those stories were just to tease him and get a good laugh out of his scared expression. Rabastan would pretend he was unaffected by them and act as if he were brave and invincible. He would muster up any courage he had to go into his room and quietly slip under the covers without even saying so much as a whimper. Of course, when he closed his eyes, the monsters came out. What happened after his terrible dreams, however, were the best parts of those nights.

Rodolphus, as much as a jerk as he was, never failed to open his door and open his arms when Rabastan came trembling and teary-eyed clutching his old, scruffy snake that he should've thrown ages ago but didn't have the heart in him to part with. Rodolphus would immediately swoop his baby brother in his arms, pat his head gently, and whisper those comforting words that were like a soft lullaby to his ears. The words which eased any inkling of fear in his body. The words which reassured Rabastan that he was not alone because he had his brother by his side. There was no need for the stuffed snake because, in those moments, he never felt more invincible.

(And maybe sometimes he would ask for those scary stories specifically _just_ to have the excuse of sleeping with his brother in his caring, warm embrace.)

But now everything was different since Rodolphus went off to Hogwarts. That caring, teasing, and warm brother was gone leaving a cold, indifferent, and egotistical stranger in his wake to greet Rabastan when he came home for the holidays. Every single time in the last three years since Rabastan was left by himself at the Manor, he watched with nervous and scared eyes as his brother disappeared and a new, _better_ version appeared. (At least according to Rodolphus.) There were no more stories of monsters or magic to to be heard like the first time Rodolphus came back. Instead there was only talk of _him_ and how great _he_ was. Only talk about this _fantastic_ person who went on and on about how purebloods were better than mudbloods. Something Rabastan didn't really understand. All he knew was that he didn't like it. The strange look in his brothers eyes frightened him.

The terrors which once plagued his dreams changed to his older brother and _him._ In these dreams, Rabastan was abandoned with all those _mudbloods_ grabbing him with their dirty hands and pulling him towards them, trying to steal his magic and kill him all while Rodolphus failed to notice his crying and walked away with _that man._ These were his nightmares. Now, in those horrid nights, no matter how much Rabastan knocked and knocked with his tiny fists pounding and crying: the door remained shut. He would go back to his room and grab his old, stuffed snake wishing that Rodolphus had never gone to Hogwarts and _changed_. (He ignored the fact that he would be going soon.) He wished for his older brother back, hugging the snake for any semblance of warmth and whispering his lullaby into the dark.

 _It's okay. You're okay. I got you._


	13. Checkmate

**Baton Pass Competition - Round 2 -** Drabble Writer: Antonin Dolohov; prompt: [Dialogue] I was born ready

 **Word Count:** 330

 **Disclaimer:** Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 ** _Checkmate_**

* * *

A whirl of green narrowly misses the other man who so quickly leaps out the way and throws the same spell back at him. Antonin snarls, not because he particularly hates this man but because Filius stands in the way of his job.

In the jungle, in the savanna, anywhere at all, there is always a natural order. There is always a chain of command that all its inhabitants adhere to. How can the lowest level, a mere maggot, dare defy the mighty beast that reigns? The battle between the weak and the strong isn't really a battle at all. It's a one-sided fight where the outcome will always come out the same. The strong will prevail.

Antonin knows this very well, and it's the reason why he chooses to fight. The reason why he so quickly picks up his wand and fights with all that he's got. The chain of command must always be followed, and it's not likely that this will ever change. You see, he's not at the top of the pyramid, and he won't ever be. Those spots are reserved for extraordinary people like Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter. Antonin fits somewhere in the middle, not in the bottom but nowhere near the top. It's his job to make sure that the ones who were born with a crown on their head stay on the top. He's merely a support, a pawn, in the grand scheme.

So he accepts his fate, his job, and places a sneer on his face, raising his wand. "Are you ready? Or are you like Lupin?" He points out the werewolf lying dead a few feet away from them. The growled ' _Dolohov'_ makes him chuckle. Lupin was expendable, just like Filius and himself are. "As for me, well, I was _born_ ready!"

After all, this is just one of many fights leading up to the last battle. But as long as Antonin's alive, he's going to be a damn good pawn till the end.


	14. House Legacy

**Word Count:** 521

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _House Legacy_

* * *

Anticipation rolled in his stomach, and he nervously rocked back and forth with the ball and heel of his feet. Cedric wasn't usually so antsy. It was actually rare for him to be so worried since he usually handled situations with ease.

"Aren't you excited?" Cedric smiled at the boy to his side. The dark haired boy stood at his shoulders and his eyes lit up when he stared at the huge doors leading to the Great Hall. "I wonder what house I'll be in!"

The boy's excitement was almost enough to make Cedric forget his worries. Almost, but not fully. You see, the houses were the source of his anxiousness! They were of major importance in his family. His dad had been a Hufflepuff. His mother had been a Hufflepuff. His dad's dad had been a Hufflepuff, so the house Hufflepuff was kind of a tradition. How terrible would it be of Cedric if he was the one to break it? He knew, of course, that his parents would be proud of him even if he got sorted into another house. Except for Slytherin, but he had been assured that his personality and character would never be sorted there.

"Don't you think Gryffindor sounds amazing?" The boy continued without waiting for a response. "I mean, the others sound neat, too, but bravery? That's what I want to be. Besides, they're lions! That can't be compared to a crow or badgers. Definitely not a snake either."

"Badgers are neat, and so are crows," Cedric replied, his voice a bit quiet but unhesitating. "I may not know about snakes, but some look really cool."

The boy's eyes widened a bit as if he wasn't expecting a response. "Oh, yeah, of course. I'm just talking about the size of the animals. What house do you want to be in?"

"Hufflepuff," Cedric replied quickly, a blush settling on his cheeks. To make his family proud, he would choose Hufflepuff in a heartbeat. "My whole family's been in Hufflepuff. I don't see why I would be different." At least that's what he hoped.

"That's cool, too!" The boy reassured him, his grin covering his entire face. Unfortunately he couldn't say more since Professor McGonagall, as the woman introduced herself, led them into the Great Hall to be sorted. The names were called, and Cedric could feel himself growing more nervous by the second.

His new friend, Philip Bartley, slapped his shoulder kindheartedly and grinned as he was called. Cedric had to grin when Philip whooped because he was sorted into Gryffindor. Soon after Cedric's own name was called, and he made his way towards the stool.

" _Such promise you hold. There's no question about your house."_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Cedric's heart soared and he laughed as he joined his new house. Hufflepuff. A wonderful house. The night passed in a blur fulled of food, ghosts, and laughter. Cedric could already see himself writing the letter to his parents. They'd be so proud of him! He ended up in Hufflepuff just like his parents and their parents. Maybe he, too, would be able to pass the house tradition on!


	15. Easter Fun

**A/N:** Er, happy belated easter?

 **Word Count:** 533

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 _ **Easter Fun**_

* * *

Everything had to be perfectly safe, and of course, perfect for Easter. It had to be if Hermione was hosting this gathering.

"All right, dear, have you checked everything off on your list?" Hermione asked Draco, eyes scanning over her own checklist. She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow at her husband's disbelieving expression. "Problem?"

Draco sighed, handing over the clipboard. "Oh, you mean this checklist you made and gave to me? Yes, Hermione, everything's in order. I know where all the eggs are hidden and the other tedious things are." Hermione grinned when she noticed his repressed smile. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"But you love me," she teased, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips this time. "Anyway, I can't wait for people to start arriving and commence the festivities."

* * *

"No, no chocolate for breakfast!" Harry cried, quickly grabbing the plate of chocolate bunnies and holding it high in the air. "Your mother would kill me."

"Just one," Lily whimpered, holding out her hands and jutting out her lower up.

"Give them to us in a napkin, so we can clean ourselves and no one will know," Albus suggested, his eyes darting between the napkins and Harry.

James didn't even bother pleading. "Oh, c'mon. Hand them over."

Harry chuckled, but shook his head. Ginny had slaved away making dozens of these to give out to their close friends and family. (All because she wanted to give something handmade and cute.) "No can do, kiddos. Now sit down and maybe after breakfast we'll see."

The kids began whining in unison, even as they settled into their seats. Harry could feel his resolve breaking when he looked at their adorable faces. But the Easter breakfast was tradition and extremely important to Ginny who had grown up with family traditions that she wanted to integrate into their own.

"Stop pestering your father. He's easily manipulated," Ginny scolded, levitating the dishes onto the table. She laughed heartfelt and the kids all grinned sheepishly at Harry. "Now let's say our graces and eat."

* * *

The sky was blue and the sun gave off a warm heat which made it a perfect day for a picnic. Neville and Luna, of course, had to have a picnic.

"Do you have everything ready?" Luna asked, making sure her twins were strapped on correctly in their stroller. "Ah, imagine if we happen across the easter bunny. Wouldn't that be an experience?"

Neville grinned and grabbed the picnic basket from the table along with the blanket. "Yes, it'd be wonderful, but let's not go looking for it today. Let's just enjoy the day."

Luna agreed albeit reluctantly. They soon set off to their local park chatting happily about the existence of the easter bunny.

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this," Ron breathed, finding it hard to disentangle Pansy's fingers from his hair and his hands from her waist. "Oh, jeez," he wheezed when Pansy pulled his short hair lightly, "we still have to go to the lunch."

A moan rang out in the quiet room, and it was not Pansy's. She leered at Ron and pulled him towards their bedroom.

"Please, Draco and Hermione can wait."


	16. Filth

**Murder Mystery:** Bellatrix accuses Remus.

 **Word count:** 319

* * *

 **Filth**

* * *

Her mind clouded over with rage when she laid her eyes on him. Her wand is out and pointing at his throat in seconds. Bellatrix was known to be hasty and wild, but her actions right now were more than justified.

"What, may I ask, is _he_ doing here?" She snarled, slinking towards the source of her rage. "Answer me!"

The werewolf pack flinched at the sound of her voice, except that filthy half-blood werewolf. Fenrir Greyback lost the sneer on his face. Bellatrix was aware she commanded fear and attention. She used it to her full advantage.

"What do you mean?" Fenrir growled, appearing to have mustered up some sort of strength because he was actually talking to _her_ in that tone.

It so happened that she was off checking the various groups that said they aligned themselves with her Dark Lord. Her tasks brought her to the werewolf's. More specifically, Fenrir's pack. And that's when she saw him.

" _Him."_ She spat, jerking her head to Remus Lupin. "You know who his friends are, right?"

Fenrir sighed, as if he's already been asked this question several times before. "Lupin? Yes, yes, don't worry about him. He's proven his loyalty. He's good."

Bellatrix cackled, all pitched and high. "So you have a sense of humor!" She continued laughing before abruptly cutting off and glaring. "Are you daft? He's friends with my dear blood traitor of a cousin. He is in no way _okay."_

To her surprise, Fenrir actually dared go against her. "I say he's okay, so he is okay. This is my pack, and you have no authority."

Bellatrix laughs. "No authority? I'm Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord's right hand. _Please."_

Fenrir remained firm and she sighed.

" _Fine._ If something goes wrong then it's on you." She spat near Lupin's shoes. "'I'm watching you."

His indifference had her wand twitching. But patience, she reminded herself, time would tell.


	17. Heart aches and sorrow

**A/N:** I kinda feel bad for writing a cheating drabble because I _hate_ reading cheating fics with a passion. Lol, I was in the mood to write that kinda angst. XD

 **Duel Club Challenge:** Duel 1: Jas v. Krissy - Drarry

 **The Houses Competition:** Round 2 - Drabble: "Don't talk to me."

 **Warning:** Implied mention of cheating and past cheatings/AU

 **Word Count:** 401

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 ** _Heart aches and sorrow_**

* * *

Harry believes in second chances. Actually, he believes in third, fourth, fifth, and maybe even an infinity number of chances and forgiveness. But even he has a breaking point.

"Why?" He asks, knuckles white and voice pained. He closes his eyes, awaiting the response, or the excuse that was sure to come. Harry doesn't notice the tears spilling down, warming his cheeks.

"I–I didn't mean to," Draco replies, words racing out of his mouth. It's not as if the faster he speaks, the faster Harry will forgive him. "I was drunk and stupid. And Merlin, she was just there, you know? She came up to me and chatted me up. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to. I don't even know her name!"

That's even worse, he thinks, that he didn't even know the name of the girl he decided to fuck. "You never mean it," he sighs, anger and sadness gone from his body.

He's done with this bullshit. He really is. He has prepared himself for this exact moment the last time this happened.

Still, that doesn't stop it from hurting.

"I love you, Harry," he desperately says, grey eyes wide and watery. "You have to believe me. It's always been you."

"Let's not."

And, still, Harry knows he's the one ending this _toxic_ relationship, but his heart still squeezes itself painfully inside his chest. He rubs his temples, as Draco rambles on how _he'll change, please, just give him one more chance._

But he's run out of chances to give.

"Don't talk to me. Not now, not ever again."

Draco's eyes widen, like he's only now realizing that Harry isn't following the usual script. "You can't be serious."

Harry chooses not to respond, grabbing his coat, and ready to _get out._

"You said you cared about me," Draco spits angrily, roughly grabbing his wrist. "Did you lie?"

The audacity of his statement produces a series of laughs and sobs.

"I'm out of fucks to give." He shakes his head, shaking his hand loose. "Have a nice life with . . . oh, wait. You don't even know her name, do you?"

There's adrenaline pumping through his veins, adding to the ever present ache in his heart.

 _It's for the best._

He repeats this again and again, as walks out, as he drives home,and as he lays in bed, shoulders heaving.

If only his heart believed it.


	18. Daddy's Boy

_Written for Release the Hounds Challenge._

 **Theme One:** Parent and Child

 **Prompt:** Listening

 _* 2 hours have passed since it first was posted, so my min. Word count would be : 575_

 **Word count:** 612

 **Rating** : K+

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Never Have, Never Will.

* * *

 ** _Daddy's Boy_**

* * *

James refused to go to the funeral.

Not that it mattered anyway. His mother forced him to go with guilt trips and harsh glares. So when the day came, he put on a mourning suit and went to see his dead father.

And that's when he realized why he _didn't_ want to go. The sight of seeing his old man– _his old hero–_ in the casket, unmoving and pale, made it real.

Made his father's death a fact.

James hadn't realized how far his denial stretched. A pained cry escaped his lips. His younger brother calmly placed a hand on his back, as if giving him permission to cry.

He bit his lip so hard it drew blood.

"Are you going to speak?" Albus asked, eyes glassy and unfocused. Wrong _,_ he thought, Albus' gaze was focused on their father.

James shook his head. "No." His stomach churned at the mere thought. "Will you?"

"I already spoke at the wake," Albus replied, eyes shifting their focus onto him. "You would've known if you attended."

James said nothing and Albus left. Left James alone staring at the very dead body. He had foolishly hoped that it would be a closed casket funeral. James supposed his mother wanted to see his father's body as much as possible.

The funeral happened shortly after they arrived, but he paid no attention. James ignored the proceedings. He blocked out his mother's words and simply stared at the body of Harry Potter, the invincible.

He watched as the Aurors lowered the casket into the ground. He watched as his father was submerged in dirt. He watched as everyone moved on to the reception.

Everyone but him.

James approached the tomb on shaky legs, kneeling when he saw the name on the gravestone.

 _Harry James Potter._

Heart wrenching sobs spilled out of his mouth. His vision blurred, and his heart thumped a beat on his chest.

James would never hear his voice again.

James would never see the laughing smile on Harry's face.

James would never hug his dad again.

Death had come too soon for his father. Harry had only been in his fifties when the cancer was found two stages too late. Treatment could only prolong his father's life before death took him.

But his dad had been so _foolish_ and _stubborn._

James had told him over and over again that he had to go to the Healer's. He didn't like the sound of his dad's cough. But no, Harry had reassured him it was nothing to worry about. A simple cold was the excuse Harry gave every time.

"You should've listened," James whispered, eyes squeezed shut. James should've insisted more than he did. He should've dragged his dad to the Hospital himself. But he was caught up in work and believed his dad's words. Or more like he wanted to believe his dad so badly.

James had been a neglectful son. He hardly visited his parents. When he did go over there or when they came to him, he didn't all his attention to them.

More than once he could recall his dad saying ' _Are you even listening?'_ when they spoke. He could recall the disappointed tone in his father's voice, but he chose to ignore it. Work had come first for him, and his family came second.

And now he was crying alone in the cemetery, wishing he had a chance to do the past all over again. A chance to fix their strained relationship. A chance to say goodbye. But time turners were not to be messed with, so he was stuck in the present.

Stuck in a guilty and remorseful mind, loving his dear, dead dad.


	19. I dance around smoke rings

**Hogwarts:** Muggle Art - Task **#1:** Write about a character distancing themselves emotionally from something else.

 **N:** Well, it's from the affairs Lucius has.

 **Gobstones Club:** Gray Stone: Betrayal; A: Refreshing, P: Witch Weekly Magazine, T: Suitcase

 **Word count:** 1,607

* * *

 _ **I dance around smoke rings**_

* * *

The smoke swirls around the room in clouds, engulfing it like fog on a cold, cold morning.

And Narcissa's feeling particularly freezing today.

She takes a deep drag from the cigar, releasing the smoke into the gray room. A brief thought flashes in her head about the time and day. It's gone as soon as it comes. What is time anyway but a concept?

Narcissa should be concerned, probably. But she can't find it in her to care about the unhealthy amount of smoke in her lungs or the fact that she doesn't how long she's been in here. She must be a mess; her hair is in a messy bun and she's got a green, silk robe covering her.

It's certainly been a few hours and it can't be days yet. Surely, her elves would've come to check up on her. Does it matter when her husband's off with some whore of a mistress?

Narcissa snorts and regrets it immediately after. Smoke fills her nose and she lets out a cry of pain, coughing until the burn fizzles out. Soft, hesitant knocks on her bedroom door sound and she has half a mind to tell them to leave, but she's saying come in before she realizes it.

Sab walks in the room, wringing her rags in her hands, and her face scrunching up at the smell. Sab coughs a few times before finally settling her gaze on the Pureblood. Narcissa giggles at her baffled reaction. Sab's like some child drawing come to alive. Eyes as big as saucers and mouth open in a comical fashion.

"Missus doesn't look so good," Sab stammers, eyes watering. The elf snaps her fingers and the gray clouds are gone. Narcissa groans, mustering an ounce of strength to pull herself into a sitting position. "Here's some water," Sab offers, bowing her head and raising a water of glass over it.

Narcissa scoffs, "Raise your head." It reminds Narcissa too much of herself being submissive to Lucius. Does Lucius' new toy lower her head like Lucius demands it? Narcissa grabs the glass and downs it. "How long have I been here?" she asks, voice hoarse.

Sab, trained under Lucius, refuses to lift her head. "Half a day has gone by, Missus."

Narcissa frowns, it wouldn't do her any good to let her life go to waste over fucking Lucius Malfoy. He spends more time getting ready in the mornings than her.

"Prepare the bath and get me my potion," Narcissa says, removing the hair tie and letting her hair fall free.

It's time she pulls herself out of this pitiful stupor.

* * *

"How long will you be gone?" Narcissa asks, idly flipping through a Witch Weekly Magazine. She hums in approval on the latest fall line of robes. "A few days or weeks? I have to arrange my schedule accordingly."

Lucius huffs, snapping his fingers at Sab to work faster. "It's not as if I can predict how long these things will last."

"It's not as if you can't send an owl or something." Narcissa coos at a rather flattering shot of a Wizard hunk. "Oh! I also need an exact date and an estimated time," she says nonchalantly, raising her brow when Lucius makes an aggravated noise. "You have something to say?"

"Don't act like this. It's unbefitting," Lucius snaps, shutting his suitcase abruptly, almost shutting Sab's fingers with it. "I'll be back in three days time around the evening for dinner. Happy?"

Narcissa hums, exclaiming how she needs to buy new robes. Lucius makes no further attempt to talk to her as he busies himself with making sure he's impeccable. Really, though, how many times can hair be subjected to the hairbrush? Not enough, according to the way Lucius softly brushes his blond locks.

"I'll see you in a few days," he remarks before grabbing his suitcase and leaving the room, San in tow. She doesn't answer, only follows his body movement with her eyes.

Narcissa wishes he'd take her angry feelings away in that suitcase.

Not soon after Sab pops into the room announcing Lucius' departure for the business trip.

Business trip? Not likely. Narcissa knows her husband's job and it's hardly necessary for him to go for days on a work trip. No, he's off to meet that mistress of his.

She needs a break—a release before she breaks like the China plates that so easily crumbled under her hands. Narcissa is off that bed in an instant, heading towards the gardens with cigarettes in hand.

She enjoys seeing the way the smoke rings disappear into the sky.

And she's none the wiser when Lucius comes home smelling fruitier than when he left or how his clothes needs immediate washing because of a slight accident. His words, not hers.

* * *

It's the middle of the night when Lucius comes home, tipsy and stumbling into bed. She wakes up disgruntled, his hands roam over her body. .

Narcissa lets him have his way.

It might not be the gentle caress she's been waiting for, but at least, he's touching her. Narcissa never realized how badly she needs to feel the heat of him.

He doesn't even notice her grabbing a cigarette and lighting it when he does what must be done. He's all animal sounds, and she's puffing smoke in and out.

It helps Narcissa forget that Lucius touches _her_ this way, too.

* * *

The sky above looks so very blue. There's not a single cloud in the sky. It burns her eyes. She releases a huge smoke cloud, trying to stain the oh, so beautiful pure blue.

It doesn't work. The smoke disperses only seconds later and she's left frowning. Narcissa reaches a hand to the sky, opening and closing her fingers. It's been about five days since Lucius has been gone.

She sighs, dropping her limp against the grass. How many days was Lucius gone last time? Was it a week? She can't remember. He's usually gone nights, so those business trips are hardly necessary anymore.

"Lunch is ready," Sab speaks up softly, appearing in Narcissa's view. She nods and gets up from the grass. Leaving the garden, she walks lethargically toward the sun parlor. It's easier to smoke out there.

"M-Missus shouldn't be s-smoking so much."

Narcissa laughs, rough and loud. "Did I ask your opinion? I think not. Just being me lunch and go."

"You have a g-"

"Go."

"But there's a-"

"Did I stutter, Sab? Leave."

The elf doesn't talk anymore and Narcissa's figures she has left. Or well she better have left. Narcissa doesn't need guidance from a _house elf_. That's just ridiculous and downgrading.

Narcissa relaxes into a chair and pulls a cigarette out when a clear and high pitched voice gasp breaks through the room.

"Narcissa? I'm hallucinating, aren't I?" Rose Parkinson asks, her face disapproving and judgemental. She gives Narcissa a pitying look. "Those aren't healthy. How long?"

"Not long," she answers quickly, wincing at how scratchy the words come out. Rose looks amused. "Just a small indulgence of mine."

"This has been enlightening," the other woman speaks, practically beaming. Rose places a hand on her stomach and pouts. "You haven't been to the weekly tea gatherings, so you're out of the loop. I'm with child, and I can't be around all this smoke nonsense."

Narcissa plasters a smile on her face. "Congratulations. I'm so happy for you."

"You sound like one of those awful men who spend their time in pubs, smoking all kinds of substance." Rose clicks her tongue. "Awful. Well, as this is not a suitable environment for me, I must leave."

Narcissa's fingers itch to take a long, needed drag.

"Oh, and don't worry, darling," Rose adds, a smirk adorning her face, "I won't say a word about your . . . indulgences."

" _Shit."_ As soon as the other woman's gone, Narcissa crushes the cigarette in her hand. That damn useless woman will have told the entire Pureblood woman by the next tea meeting.

Those wives would surely then gossip to their husbands then word will have reached Lucius' ears. Of course, he has his suspicions already. The stench isn't so easy to mask. Potions, perfumes, and toothpaste help dearly, but still, he suspects.

Narcissa has to be the perfect Pureblood wife and this will not work for him.

She angrily takes a bite of her lunch. Only moments later the food rises back up her throat, burning her esophagus and mouth, and she hurls onto the table.

Maybe Narcissa needs to stop this bad habit.

* * *

"Pregnant," she repeats blankly, looking at the Healer in shock. She came to a checkup because she's got the flu or something. Not this. "I can't be pregnant. That's . . . I've. No."

Healer Jowell sighs, closing her file. "You are with child. You aren't sick. This is a good thing. Congratulations!"

Is it? Is it really? Lucius is with _her_ today, and she's pregnant?

"Yes, thank you."

She blindly walks out the room, dazed and uncertain. Isn't this the heir Lucius has always wanted? Narcissa Apparates home and collapses onto the couch.

She's already lighting another cigarette when she remembers and drops it. Narcissa stares in disgust at her shaking hands. It would only be so easy to light up another smoke. It'd be so refreshing to feel the tension leave her body, to feel her shoulders drop and her limbs pliable and limp.

'No," she says aloud, shaking her head and hurling the pack across the room.

Her baby deserves better. Narcissa will protect this child and forget everything else. Lucius be damned and her addiction be damned.

This child will be her new outlet of release.


	20. Rising Insanity

**September Event:** Back to School - (object) Class Revision/Schedule

 **Word count:** 439

* * *

 ** _Rising Insanity_**

* * *

The clicking of keyboards, the occasional ring of the phone, the tik-tok of the clock, and the dull voice of the counselor calling name after name were all contributing to her rising insanity. Hermione inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to calm herself down. The other students around her continued chattering with their too loud voices and annoying laughter. She'd been in this damn school office for hours now, for what happened to be the 3rd time in two weeks.

One of the loudest girls was called and Hermione was glad for the significant drop in noise level. She was only slightly annoyed that it wasn't her name. The secretary caught her eye and smiled apologetically. "It's only a matter of time now, dear," Mrs. Robin commented. "I'm sure you signed up just after that girl."

Hermione smiled though it turned out to be more of a grimace. "I hope so." She had been in this office so many times that the secretary had been recognizing her on sight!

While Hermione waited for what she hoped was the last time, she took out her schedule. This schedule was actually her second one. Her first schedule had been wrong since they had placed her in a math class two years behind her level (they'd even double blocked it) and hadn't given her a Biology course. She was meant to be taking Algebra 2 and her counselor had placed her remedial Algebra! That was absolutely ridiculous.

On Hermione's first visit here, she was rejected on the basis that 12th graders were prioritized and 9th graders were last. She was encouraged to sign up and wait. Hermione left after the third hour had passed. The second visit to the counselor ended in a fixed schedule. It was a two hour wait to fix her math and biology course in 15 minutes. Now, her third time here, she was back with her schedule since the supposed "new" math class was full and her teacher had sent her marching back.

"Hermione Granger?" Mrs. McGonagall called out. She stood in the doorway of her private office and raised a brow at the sight of her. Hermione supposed it was understandable since she was only here yesterday. Hermione picked her bag from the floor and followed the older woman into her office. "Back again so soon?"

Hermione nodded and took a seat. She laid her schedule on the table, back ramrod straight and hands clasped. It was time to fix this inconvenience.

The only time she wanted to be in this office again was to talk about her valedictorian status.


	21. Safe Haven

**September Event** : Back to School - (character) Severus Snape

 **Word count:** 220

* * *

 ** _Safe Haven_**

* * *

Hogwarts was his safe haven and home was hell.

Severus repeated this statement so many times, but he knew better. Repeating it wasn't going to make it true.

Yes, the aforementioned sentence was, in fact, true for the first year of Hogwarts when most first-years were too caught up in the school work and were enchanted by the magic to notice him. Nobody had any reason to tease or bully Severus. He was just another Slytherin boy who showed promise for Potions class.

Severus had always known life wasn't fair, had always known that life was cruel and disappointing. It was foolish of him to think Hogwarts would be any different. Yes, there were times where he had fun and laughed, but it wasn't common.

He could still remember the dreadful sensation of hanging upside down and merciless teasing; could still remember the way he tried and tried to figure out a potion to de-grease his hair. It never worked. He couldn't fix his hair or make himself richer. All he could do was attempt to make his hair smooth and fix the tears on his clothes; keep his head down to avoid attention.

Yes, Severus knew school kids were mean. He was mean too.

So even though Hogwarts wasn't perfect like he'd wish it were, it still beat home.


	22. How Sweet and Short

**Written for the QL Competition.**

 **CHASER 3:** Rook: Write from the perspective of someone other than a student who lives in Hogwarts: a ghost, a house-elf, a teacher, a portrait, the Sorting Hat, etc.

4\. (dialogue) "What makes you so sure it was me?"

5\. (song) Poker Face - Lady Gaga (Chose to focus on how nobody sees a particular facet of someone thus "poker face" turned into never truly knowing someone's thoughts)

13\. (word) Strategy

 **Word count:** 927

* * *

It's the small pitter-patter of their feet running through the corridors, giggles and hushed whispers flowing like the wind, that pull Peeve's attention away from the locked classroom where he's been lazing around.

He knows why they're here—how could he not?

Peeves lives for these moments.

Taking a deep breath of air, puffing his chest to the maximum, he flies through the door and pulls the scariest face he can. "Rotten little children!" he screams much to the delight of the first years who scream then laugh as they run away.

Their laughter warms up the corridor and Peeves soaks it up. He'll never get tired of providing this form of entertainment. It's his form of communication; his way of being remembered and remembering others.

Because he's been here since the beginning and he'll be here until the end; unlike those names which covered the memorial and the names which would never be honored.

* * *

 _Colin Creevy_

The boy was smaller than the rest of his fellow students, but his loud gasps and exclamations more than made up for his size. The camera around his neck—which the Gryffindor held so tight that Peeves thought it might shatter by the force of his grip—seemed to be very important to the boy, so he categorized that in his mind and let his eyes drift off to other new students.

He was sure he'd see the boy again.

It was a week later when the boy appeared with four other boys; their steps pounded against the floor along with the loud confirmations of their bravery.

Those words were hardly true when he made his famed appearance, but Peeves was sure they'd grow into their courage soon.

But Colin, curious, curious Colin, stood frozen in a mixture of awe and shock, finger trembling on the shutter.

All it took was a simple, "Boo" to have the lad turning tail and yelling about how his little brother wouldn't believe a single thing.

 _Nymphadora Tonks_

She was one of his favorite students.

She wasn't like anybody else. She was a whirlwind of colors and emotions from her bubblegum pink hair down to her bright blue sneakers.

The first time she appeared through his famed corridor she changed her hair color instantly.

Her hair shifted to his near-white translucent color and she grinned; all teeth and dimples.

"Never had this color before. I wear it better than you do."

And, truth be told, she did.

 _Fred Weasley_

He'd known about the two twin boys before the boys had known about him.

Stories—horror filled and sweet—were told by fonding older brothers who seemed interested in the trouble these boys would find in Hogwarts.

Peeves promised Charlie he wouldn't go soft on the boys should they ever turn up in his corridor; he told Percy he was the only one allowed to stir up trouble, much less hand his title to two brats.

Of course, he'd been wrong.

The boys were absolutely delightful menaces when they met him.

They cooked up some weird strategy of running down from opposite ends of the corridor. George had forgone his shoes in an effort to erase his presence.

"You're not that scary," Fred had exclaimed when Peeves screamed only in his face. George, on the other hand, laughed and had his ears covered. He probably hadn't expected Peeves to be so loud.

"Like a small teddy bear," George added, wrinkling his nose.

"A loud teddy bear."

Peeves knew they mischief they'd cause in Hogwarts would be a sight to watch.

They'd been so unafraid and cheeky since the start, and they never lost their wit even when they grew up.

And Fred never lost that cheek even in his final moments.

 _Bellatrix Lestrange_

Children change as they grow.

It's a fact.

Usually, it's for the better, but other times, it's the complete opposite.

Bellatrix had been a bad seed that had sprouted into a deadly flower.

The students who walked in his corridor came of their own free will or had simply stumbled upon it.

She was different.

Peeves never felt bad scaring first years, but there was something unsettling about scaring muggle-borns who hadn't known about him and were guided by a mean witch.

The way she laughed when the other girl ran away in tears was particularly chilling to hear.

And the way she came back with different students sent shivers down his spine.

* * *

Human life is so laughably comparable to the rook in chess—or at least the version he'd seen long ago by the name of Chaturanga.

How, like a chariot, the rook moves so quickly across the board and takes the places of other chess pieces.

Much like the way human years pass by so fast and when one dies, another life quickly replaces them.

Sometimes the years blur in his mind, but the lives he's met will never be forgotten.

Peeves heaves a heavy sigh as he makes his way over to the loud noise of students moving between passing period.

They too will soon die, leaving behind only distant memories inside his head.

But Peeves chooses not to dwell on that too much and he focuses on the present.

He doesn't want another awkward conversation when people don't see his usual grin. Sometimes those expressions are the only thing he remembers about the long dead friend; not the crinkly smile he saw so many times on Remus' face.

So that's why Peeves hurls stink bombs towards the students who scream and laugh as they run away.

He wants to remember those smiles and laughs.


	23. Like a Proper Wizard

**The Golden Snitch:** Scavenger Hunt - 'Speaking of uniforms, I wonder what a Muggleborn thought about their new school uniform? Perhaps you could show me in a story?' - Team Mahoutokoro [Jas, Kat, Fruits]

 **Word count:** 524

* * *

 ** _Like a Proper Wizard_**

* * *

Colin was more than positive that he had annoyed his mother during the car ride home. But it wasn't his fault; not really.

It wasn't like he had chosen to become a wizard; it sort of just happened to him.

And Colin wasn't complaining!

But, no, that was _not_ the reason his mother would scold him if he fidgeted in his seat one more time. He had never been good at sitting still, but his mother was being unreasonable this time! See, Colin had just gone to _Diagon Alley_.

He still couldn't believe it.

The place had been, well, _magical_. There were so many shops with creatures and books and things that he never would've imagined in his wildest dreams! Of course, he had dragged his mother to every single shop he laid eyes on. Getting his wand was certainly the most memorable moment of the entire trip.

Colin had tucked that away straight into its box and in his trunk with reverence. He had to read his books if he wanted to use the wand correctly. However, his wand wasn't the reason for his excitement either.

It was his robes; his burning desire to try them on and accept his new identity.

"We're home," his mum said, rolling her eyes at his eager reaction when she pulled into their driveway. "I'll get the trunk in a second."

Tapping his foot on the ground, Colin groaned audibly as his mum took her sweet time in collecting her keys and bag. Couldn't she see he had clothes to try on?

"Persistent, aren't you?" she muttered as she finally opened the door and pulled out the trunk filled with the various items and clothes from Diagon Alley. "Now, I don't want you making a mess when I leave it in your room, okay?"

Colin gave his mum a cheeky grin. "Sure!"

The journey to the room he shared with his little brother was, in his opinion, too long! He couldn't wait to try his robes on and dress like a proper wizard, so that was why he didn't even wait till his mother dropped the trunk on the floor to pop open the lock.

"What is that?" Dennis scrunched up his nose and pointed directly at the black robes Colin had in his hands.

"My uniform!" He excitedly put it on and gave a twirl. "Doesn't it look amazing? I feel like a real wizard now!"

Dennis laughed, looking at Colin as if he were insane. "It looks like a black bathrobe. And you have to wear a witch hat too? Lame."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Colin turned away from his brother and grabbed the witch hat from inside the trunk. He placed it stylistically on his head. "You wouldn't understand wizard fashion," he crossed his arms "if I explained it to your little brain a thousand times. Shut your mouth."

"You're just mad because you look stupid."

Colin stuck out his tongue childishly. He focused his attention on his reflection on the body length mirror attached to their closet door. His Hogwarts uniform looked awesome on him. What did Dennis know anyway? Nothing, that's what.


	24. tempt me not (pink lips and blue eyes)

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.**

 **Holyhead Harpies,** **CHASER 3:** Write about someone's first visit to Knockturn Alley

 **Prompts:** 3- [quote] Now that was an awfully big threat - OUAT; 5 - [dialogue] "If you leave now, you get nothing."; 7 - [word] history

 **W.C:** 1,643

* * *

 _ **tempt me not (pink lips and blue eyes)**_

* * *

The young girl sits in the armchair, her feet tucked safely underneath a fleece blanket, idly licking a Blood Pop lollipop as she watches a movie on the television.

Walburga wrinkles her nose at the dramatics of the actors on the screen. The starring witch in the movie is far too hideous to have attracted the fancy of her handsome co-star. Is she supposed to believe that love is strong enough to turn a blind eye to ugliness?

She doesn't find the love story to be believable at all.

The black haired witch on screen bawls as she notices her love interest dancing with someone else at a ball. At this particular scene, Walburga smirks when the young witch runs away from the party.

Honestly, the silly witch should've known princes don't fall in love with commoners.

Especially not ones with such a large waist either.

"Wally, dear," her father's voice interrupts, pausing the movie with a flick of his wand. She refrains from sighing and turns to look in his direction. Her father is the image of ease, all smiles and relaxed posture, while her mother grips her upper arms with must be the tightest grip known to man. Her mother's hair is a mess and she has deep bruises underneath her eyes showing her obvious lack of sleep. "Would you set your mother's worries at ease?"

Her mother scoffs, lips curling in a nasty way. "Or she could confirm my suspicions." Her gray eyes bore into Walburga's with an intensity she's never seen on her mother's face. Her father makes a disapproving noise and frowns. "Well, she could, Pollux!"

"Your hysterics aren't amusing anymore. Wally, tell your mother where we were this afternoon," her father says, laying a sympathetic hand on Irma. Walburga glances between the pained expression on her mother's face and the smile on her father's.

"Father took me to Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies for Hogwarts." She taps her chin then laughs; she waves her lollipop around in the air. "Then he bought me some sweets and we came home."

Her mother deflates at her words. The fight leaves her eyes and her shoulders hunch over themselves. "Of course, of course," she mutters repeatedly, more to herself than to them. After a moment, a small smile crosses her face and she presses a light kiss on Pollux's cheek. "I'll be retiring for the night, love."

Walburga hums and stares pointedly at her father to turn on her movie.

"You're a good girl, Wally." Her father walks over and rests a hand on the back of her neck; his grip tight. Walburga lowers her head. "Stay that way."

"Of course, father," she responds, voice flat. "A Pureblood woman must be obedient at all times especially when it comes to the matters of the Manor." Walburga bites her cheek but she can't help but blurt out, "Especially when lying."

* * *

"I expect you to act on your best behavior," Pollux warns Walburga as they make their way down Diagon Alley. Walburga nods curtly, doing her best to weave through the crowd in the shadow of her father. "Remember your Pureblood etiquette lessons and, for Merlin's sake, I expect you to adhere to every single one of them."

Walburga nods again, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She practically has that book memorized with how much she's forced to read it. "Of course, father," she quips back when he gives her a side-eye.

She can see the outline of the entrance to Knockturn Alley and her stomach churns with excitement. She'll be the first one out of her friends in Hogwarts to venture inside, save for the boys. Of course, they've all told stories about the place. It's supposed to be dark and scary if the boys' stories are to be believed.

What she actually sees is disappointing.

The shops look terribly dull and faded. There are only a few that catch her interest and it's because of the product they're selling. This is nothing like the atmosphere from Diagon Alley, even the people scurrying around are boring.

Sure, there are people wrapped so tightly in their oversized cloaks that she can barely catch a flash of their face before they're gone, but that's not a new sight. Sometimes she catches strange looking men in her father's study in the late hours of the night when she should be asleep. In fact, there are hardly any people casually roaming the streets. Most people seem to be in a hurry, trying to get in and out as quickly as they can.

That's not the case with her father.

Walburga puffs out her own chest and takes long, elegant strides when she sees the way he's holding himself; proud and tall. This is her father, not like those cowards too afraid to show their face.

She almost doesn't mind the nasty glare thrown her way when she pushes past an old batty witch. It's around then that her father comes to a halt in front of a shop called Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos, nestled between a pub and an undertakers shop.

The outside of the tattoo parlor looks like every other shop in Knockturn Alley; it has brick walls with small windows and the shop's name on a sign. When they enter the shop, Walburga has to bite her lip from gasping out loud. The art covering the walls are intricate, beautiful, and an explosion of color.

"Welcome." Walburga brings her gaze to the man behind the counter. The man can't be older than her father. He's got long black hair with tan skin that's littered with tattoos, and he's also wearing muggle clothing. She scrunches her nose but says nothing as she watches the casual exchange of words between her father and the man known as Daniel.

Daniel's brown eyes meet her blue ones and he winks. "I have your room waiting if you'll follow me," he says to her father, standing from his seat behind the counter and walking toward the only hallway. He opens the second door on the right and pushes it open with a smile. "Here we go."

There's a woman waiting inside the room. She's got beautiful blond curls framing her face, making her sky blue eyes pop. A light, pink gloss coats her lips and her cheeks are rosy. Her blue dress compliments her eyes.

She looks like she could be an actress on the romance movies Walburga watches a lot.

"Pollux," the woman purrs, rising from the chair she was sitting in to envelop her father in a hug. Walburga takes a step back when her father and this strange woman embrace each other like they'll never see each other again. "I've missed you, darling. I love you so much it hurts."

Walburga takes another step back when her father—using a gentle voice she's never heard before—whispers, "I love you, too."

"Now, where are you going, little lady?" Daniel asks, grabbing her shoulders and stopping her in place. "If you leave now, you get nothing." Her father and the woman seem to remember there are other people in the room because they finally let each other go. Still, her father keeps his arm around the woman's small, small waist. "That'll be a pity since your father spent so much money on sweets already."

"What's going on?" she asks, voice wary and calculated.

Her father sighs, waving a hand signal to Daniel. "Follow him and I'll explain afterward. I've got business to attend to."

Walburga stays put, eyes locked on the way the woman has laid her head on her father's shoulders.

"Listen to your father and run along," the woman drawls, raising an eyebrow.

"I know what this is," Walburga states, crossing her arms. She's seen too many movies not to know. "This is an affair, isn't it? I'll tell mother!"

"Now that was an awfully big threat," her father comments, letting the woman go so he can grip the back of Walburga's neck hard. "You know what happens to bad elves," he warns, voice cold and detached but with an underlying tone that screams of danger. "Do you need to be punished like that as well?"

Walburga flinches and shakes her head. "No, father."

"Then do as I say."

She jumps when her father lets her go and pushes her toward the other man. Daniel leads her out of the room and closes the door behind them. He then brings her to the first door where Walburga can see a pile of sweets on the table with a television playing another romance movie.

"Your father shares a lot of history with her," Daniel says, after informing Walburga where the restroom was. "There are things you'll come to understand when you're older and this is one of them."

With that said, he leaves.

She doesn't see anyone else until two hours later when her father comes back to take her home. She's gone through half of the sweets and two movies. Walburga looks around the parlor when they leave to see if she can catch a glimpse of that woman again.

The only trace left of the woman is the smudge of pink gloss on her father's collar.

* * *

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Walburga answers, flushing a bit at her recklessness.

Her father lets go and pats her head. "Don't stay up too late. I'm off to my study so Kreacher will watch over you."

The movie flickers alive and Walburga settles back into her seat with a sigh. The black haired witch on the screen runs through the streets. It's too comical not to laugh out loud. The running only makes the actress' waist look bigger; sort of like her mother's figure.

Walburga thanks Salazar that her waist is small and that her eyes are blue.

She knows know that princes, like her father, don't fall in love with commoners, like her mother.


	25. Her Body

**Warning:** Implied mentions of getting an abortion

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Sex Ed: Task 2: Write about someone getting pregnant / Count your buttons: Pairings - Ginny/Harry

Word count: 825

* * *

 _ **Her Body**_

* * *

 _Thump thump thump._

It's all in her head. She knows this.

 _Thump thump thump._

It's her own heartbeat she hears roaring in her ears.

 _Thump thump thump._

"What you're doing is wrong!"

"Turn to your right side—the good side!"

"Stop before it's too late! There's a life in there!"

"Look over here, love!"

"They have heartbeats!"

"Smile for the picture! You'll be looking at the front page of this on the Daily Prophet!"

"Don't you have any maternal instincts?"

 _Thump thump thump thump._

She wants to stop and turn away, if only to be free of those comments and damn paparazzi, making her feel as if she's evil. But she's far from being the next Voldemort or the very devil itself; that's just some of the ridiculous comparisons ignorant people make.

A supporting hand rests on her back, gently guiding her forward toward the entrance. She glances up into Harry's face and smiles. "Thank you," she whispers, looking away from her husband's face before she breaks into tears. Happy and grateful tears.

Ginny squares her shoulders and turns to face those flashing cameras. She's entirely too aware of how self-write quills are already scribbling madly away in notepads. "Today, I am getting an abortion," she says loudly to the crowd huddled around the abortion clinic. This creates an immediate hush over everyone—even those old-fashioned witches and wizards carrying the signs against her decision. "I'm fully aware of what I'm doing, and I want to say that it's perfectly okay to do so. It's my own body."

She smiles wide and crinkly-eyed before walking into the clinic. Ginny feels an incredible rush for standing up for herself and it grows when she turns to face Harry. He's staring in awe, eyes shining and mouth open. He flushes when Ginny raises a brow.

"I'm so proud of you," he admits, a grin stretching wide across his face. "So proud."

The last amount of guilt she's built up leaves in a flash and Ginny bravely grasps Harry's hand.

"I'd like to see the doctor now, please."

* * *

 _ **5 Weeks Ago**_

When Ginny wakes up in the morning, she is unbelievably warm. She's practically engulfed in Harry's arms and she has her face tucked nicely into his chest. The covers are covering only their lower halves, but Harry's body temperature has always run warmer. She gently pulls back, making sure not to wake Harry up as he came home exhausted from a particular confrontation with rogue dementors. She makes a face at the window which has let the sun shine its warm rays at the couple.

(Later she will think that the sun, which isn't such a common occurrence in these parts, shining so brightly in the morning was surely a bad omen.)

Ginny makes her way out of bed There's nothing unusual in her routine that day. It goes on like normal until there's an unpleasant lurch in her stomach when she's making tea for their breakfast. She gasps and barely has time to set the kettle on the counter before she's running to the restroom.

Harry wakes up because of the loud retching noises.

She barely registers his loud shout of concern when he finds her slumped over the toilet seat. Harry rubs her back softly and holds her hair back in the process. "It's okay," he whispers. "Just let it all out."

By the time her stomach settles, Ginny knows this isn't a regular stomach bug. She's had this horrible feeling building up inside her ever since she missed her period a week ago. Her period isn't regular by any means because her strenuous Quidditch training and career interrupts her cycle, but this isn't that either.

Weasley women always get morning sickness three weeks after being pregnant.

Her hands clamp up and she groans in frustration. "I'm fucking pregnant," she says, turning her head to meet Harry's worried stare.

Harry's eyes widen and he stares shocked at her. He opens his mouth and closes it shut again.

"I don't want it," Ginny says louder, her voice cracking. Her stomach is in knots but it isn't morning sickness. Her eyes desperately search Harry's face for signs of disgust about her. It's awful. Not wanting to have a baby is normal and abortions are much more common, but this is Harry. He's always been a family orientated man.

The guilt inside of her grows.

"I'm … not ready," she whispers, biting her lip so hard she can taste blood.

 _Am I selfish?_ she wonders when Harry continues to stay silent.

"We should talk. Properly," Harry finally replies, his green eyes staring deeply into her brown ones. There's no judgment in his gaze. He presses a kiss to her forehead and smiles. "I want to hear everything you need to say."

A sense of relief floods her system and she nods in lieu of a response. She reaches for his hand and squeezes.

They'll be okay. She's sure of it.


	26. Seas of red and blue

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Women's History - Task 1: Write about a child dealing with the reality of having divorced parents.

 **Insane House Challenge:** 972\. Emotion - Frustrated

 **Writing Club:** Disney Challenge - 7. Genie: Write about someone feeling trapped / Liza's Loves - 16. Lavender Martini: Write about Lavender

 **Word count:** 479

* * *

 ** _Seas of red and blue_**

* * *

The woman looks over the rim of her glasses to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at Lavender. "Are you sure you feel fine?"

Lavender resists from shouting at the stupid school counselor. "Yes," she responds through gritted teeth. "Can I go back to class now?"

Mrs. Trelawney tuts, closing the small notebook she's been scribbling away in ever since Lavender entered the office. "I really must remind you, darling, that this only works if you're honest with me. It's easier for the healing process to start if you let yourself acknowledge your feelings." At Lavender's blank stare, the older woman finally relents and write a quick note for her teacher. "See you next week, Miss Brown. Hopefully, you'll be more open then."

Lavender grabs her backpack from the floor and leaves the office as soon as she has the note in her hand. She doesn't need this annoying counseling session the school has assigned her. There's nothing wrong with her. She feels just fine. It doesn't matter that her parents are getting divorced.

"Oh, are you _depressed_?" sneers Pansy, looking Lavender up and down. The other girl has a bathroom pass in her hands and she stares pointedly at Trelawney's room. "What's wrong with you that you have to see the loony shrew? Only _sad_ people see her."

Lavender raises her chin, clutching the strap of her backpack tighter. She hates Pansy. Pansy who thinks she's better than everyone else and has that rich dad that buys her everything she wants and that stupid mom who lets her get away with anything. "I'm not depressed or whatever. She just wanted to see me for some class thing, you know."

All Pansy does is smirk and walk away.

It's Pansy so Lavender knows that the rest of their year will think she's depressed by tomorrow morning. It's with that heavy feeling in her gut that she curses out that idiotic woman who came between her parents.

Lavender makes her way toward the restroom instead of her class. She walks to the biggest cubicle and throws her backpack on the floor. She takes big breaths and eventually sits down on her bag, not wanting to sit on the dirty floor. Her eyes well up, but she refuses to let herself cry. She's already cried so much that she's become bored of it.

She hates crying.

She hates her mom for not being attractive enough.

She hates her dad for cheating.

She hates the woman who didn't give a damn about Lavender's family.

She hates the loony shrew that she has to see now because the school doesn't want her to be sad and let her studies fall.

"Fuck you," she whispers into the quiet restroom, digging her nails into her upper arms.

Lavender sits there, fuming in anger and tears until the bell rings for lunch and she leaves like nothing's wrong.


	27. i want to know

**The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style III -** no optional prompts used (lol, sorry Lo and Sam, I forgot this was a thing in my haste to get something done)

 **Writing Club:** Shannon's Show Case 18. (Plot Point) Searching for a lost parent/ Character Appreciation: 14. (Relationship) Grandparent/Grandchild / Showtime: Hamilton - 7. You'll Be Back (action: crying) / Count your buttons: Words - 1. Young / Ami's Audio Admirations: 15. Why am I listening to this show? - Write about a character questioning something / Sophie's Shelf: Vault 29 - Write a KidFic

 **Word count:** 604

* * *

 ** _i want to know_**

* * *

 _One, two, three, and now!_

"I've just about had it! Please, for Merlin's sake child, go find something else to do!" Augusta Longbottom snaps, grabbing Neville's arm and pulling him away from the pile of photos he has spread across the living room floor. Neville grits his teeth and pulls the two closest photos to his chest. "Look at this mess you've created! Who's going to have to clean this up? Me, not you, that's who."

Neville's lower lip trembles, but he reigns his tears in; he's got a mission, after all, to complete. He's prepared for this exact moment. "But I want to know more," he pleads, digging his socks into the carpet. "I know you know where they are."

His grandmother's lip curls and she shakes her head. "I've already told you that you'll find out when you're older! You're much too young now, dear. Can't you understand this? Let it go, Neville."

Neville will not. He is also not too young. He's already nine! "No," he states through a wince, her nails are quite sharp against his skin. "I've seen the pictures! You haven't hidden all of them. Uncle Algie's told me that I've got to find them! They're lost, he says, but that you know where. You're just being mean. Uncle Algie said so too."

He counts silently, waiting for the moment his grandmother will explode again.

"Fine!" she yells, carding her fingers through her hair aggressively. She lets his arm go and motions to where his shoes are placed by the door. "Go grab them, and you'll see. I'm doing this for you, but you've pushed far too much this time. But once I show you, you'll be stuck with it and you'll let the matter drop forever."

Neville beams with joy and runs to put his shoes on. The side Apparation never feels good, but he doesn't notice it this time because of the excitement building in his stomach. He's too busy running his introductions through his mind that he doesn't notice where they've appeared until he catches sight of Healers.

"Where—" he begins, only for his grandmother to shush him and pull him through hallways.

His grandmother exhales sharply and gives him a stern look. "You've asked for this. Repeatedly, may I add. Just know that I never wanted to do this now, but I'm tired, dear. Maybe it is time you should know."

She pushes the door open, and he boldly steps inside.

There's a man and a woman sitting in opposite corners of the bed. He scrunches his brows when the man talks to the air. The woman is talking to her hands. Neville takes another step closer, and the woman's head snaps up and stares directly at him.

He gasps because this is his _mom._ He grins and runs forward to slam himself in her arms.

"Who?" his mom asks, looking at the wall then back at him. She babbles on and hands him a wrapper, continuing to make hand gestures between the wall and him. He realizes then that she never hugged him back.

He tries to get both his mom and dad's attention for minutes, but they never look his way.

"Oh, dear," he hears his grandmother say behind him. He turns and finds her arms wide open. Her tight grip around his body is comforting. "I knew this would happen. I'm so sorry."

"I didn't find them," he cries into her chest. He pulls back and sees that she's crying too. He doesn't think he's ever seen his grandmother cry. He sobs alongside her. Neville will never question her again.


	28. in another life

**Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.**

 **Beater 1:** Use a title from your Beater 2 for inspiration / prompts: eternity, "Do you mind if we stop for a minute?"

I've chosen _The System_ by MissWitchx.

* * *

 ** _in another life_**

* * *

In this life, you're a teacher.

It wasn't your first choice, but somewhere along the way, you fell in love with enriching the minds of future generations. To think that your lessons can help shape this world for the better have you returning to your desk day after day. It isn't easy by any means. Some classes are more difficult than others, but you'll never give up teaching, even if it has you rubbing your temples during the lunch break.

As more teachers file into the staff room, the new music teacher comes up to your table and gestures to the empty seat in front of you. "D'ya mind?"

Yes, you want to say, can't you see I'm terribly stressed? You're not really in the mood to entertain others right now. But he looks hopeful and you don't have the heart to say yes.

"No," you say with a smile. "Go ahead."

"Sirius," he says out of nowhere until you realize that must be his name.

"Remus," you answer.

He grins, dimples making an appearance, and says, "Do you want to see some puppies?"

As it turns out, Sirius is the proud owner and father of three little pups. His laughter and smile are infectious, and your worries ease away every second you talk with him.

You fall in love in the span of a semester. You pull out your dusty poetry books and write, write, write until your wrist is sore and you've written a collection of books that can fill up the school's library. You spend days listening to music, so you can have more words to contribute to the conversations between Sirius and James, the other music teacher. You fall in love with the songs Sirius dedicates to you under the moonlight on your first date.

You're so in love that you feel no stress when it seems the wedding cake caterer is running late.

"Alright?" Sirius whispers when the priest is talking. You laugh and hush him, but you make sure to nod at him, squeezing his hands.

"Never been better."

* * *

In this life, you're a farmer.

You spent your childhood tracking mud in from your adventures through the patch of woods behind your house, your bicycle basket equipped with all your exploring necessities: flashlight, compass, beef jerky. You'd tie a bandana around your forehead to keep the summer sweat out of your eyes, and you wouldn't return until the fireflies lit the way home.

When your friends leave home for college at eighteen, you stay and work the fields. There's no money for college in your household, but you don't mind. The fields have always been a haven for you. It's where you feel most comfortable.

The lawyer comes when you're out chopping wood with your axe for the fireplace.

"What can I do for you?" you ask, setting the axe down and looking the well-dressed man up and down.

"Hello, I'm Sirius Black, and I'm interested in this piece of land."

He goes on and on about a railroad system and how Remus' land is in perfect position, but you've heard it all before from others who have come before him.

"Do you mind if we stop for a minute?" you interrupt, and he pauses. "I want to show you something."

You show him the wonders of the field and how it's your livelihood. He surprises you because he wants to know more. So you show him until weeks have past and then months have gone by, but he stays.

You kiss him the day his first fruit labor has flourished.

* * *

In this life, you're a wizard.

Magic has always been around in your household that when you accidentally use magic for the first time it's nothing to be surprised about. The surprise comes later when a werewolf breaks into your room before your fifth birthday and scars you for life.

No matter how many healers your parents took you to there was no cure for your condition. The transformations are painful. You howl and scratch up your body because it burns so bad you can hardly breathe.

But you learn to live with it because there's no other choice. It's this or death.

A small miracle occurs and you're able to attend Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It's where you meet him.

Sirius Black who's so wonderfully unique and insane you'll never find a love like his again. He's like a once-in-a-lifetime photo captured, right in front of you. He's always moving forward, never stopping once to fully think.

It's what eventually gets him thrown into Azkaban and what breaks your heart into a million pieces.

"Why?" you ask, hands curled into fists by your sides. "It doesn't matter. I've already chosen you! I don't care for Nymphadora."

Sirius shakes his head, eyes watering. Shouldn't you be the one crying, you thin ironically, as Sirius breaks down into sobs. "I'm … I'm a prisoner here, Remus. I can't expect you to put your life on hold for me. I was gone for so long."

"Shut up," you yell and pull him into a heated kiss.

There's so much left to say, but you'll always choose him in the end. There's nobody else for you.

* * *

In this life, you are a soul.

A wisp of air—a small blinding ball of light—gently cratered in the hands of someone warm and familiar.

There's a film over your eyes blocking your vision, but you can still hear and feel everything around you. The hands holding you shift slightly before another soul joins yours.

It's a strange unexpected emotion when there's a burning urge to be closer to the other soul, even when your essences are already as close as can be.

 _"Who are you?"_ you whisper. _"Do I know you?"_

 _"I'm … not sure,"_ he responds.

No, you think, I know you. I'd know you anywhere.

"Oh, dear," a voice from above speaks, soft and melodious. "You two have been through a lot, haven't you? That's all over now. It's alright. You can finally rest."

Her soft lips press against the top of your soul and his. Warmth travels through you and through him until the film has disappeared and you can finally see.

Memories flood your mind and you remember him—remember Sirius. You laugh at your own foolishness and cry for all the missed opportunities in your past lives. But with each memory you gain, you grow fainter. You cling onto Sirius and he holds you back equally as tight. As if the woman can sense your fears, she giggles softly.

"Don't worry," she whispers, "there's nothing to fear. You'll be together for an eternity now."

She lets you slip through her fingers, and oh, you're falling, but you're not alone either. Sirius is with you; his soul merging into yours until you have become one with your soulmate.

And there is no other life, just contentment and happiness.


	29. Lawful & Chaotic

**Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

Appleby Arrows: December - Griselda Jorkins

Optional Prompts: color: cream / word: striped

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: **Mythology Task 3: Write an Underworld or Afterlife!AU.

 **The Hunger Games Fanfic Style II:** Prompts: Word: Unexpected

Emotion: Jealousy

Dialogue: "I'm not so sure about this." / "Just trust me."

Character: Percy Weasley

AU: Soulmates

Word count: 1598

* * *

 _ **Lawful & Chaotic**_

* * *

A blinding white light is the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. Blinking her eyes slowly, she adjusts to her surroundings. She's sitting in a desk—which is odd considering she's been out of school for ages—in what looks to be a classroom. The walls are painted a soft blue with soft clouds scattered here and there. There are other people from all ages filling up the classroom, all of them wearing cream colored gowns, including her. A man stands in front of the classroom commandeering the attention with a simple clap of his hands. He's wearing scrubs and holding a clipboard. There's a name written out on the chalkboard behind him spelling out: _Percy W, Afterlife Instructor_.

"Welcome to the Afterlife," he says cheerfully, attempting to make eye contact with all of them. It's quite difficult through his glasses. Griselda startles at his words, but she quickly remembers … the accident. She glances around the room and grimaces when she spots a small girl because she's swinging her legs and her feet don't touch the floor. She's the only child in the classroom. "Please pay close attention to the directions I'll give out next. There's a slip of paper located in the inside of your desks. These papers will indicate which Afterlife you will embark on according to your alignment. Everybody understand that?"

Griselda wastes no time and rummages in her desk until she hears a crinkling sound before pulling out what looks to be a simplified version of a school report card. Her name and age are written neatly on the top along with her cause of death. In the center of the page, typically where her scores would be, are the words _Lawful Good._

This is a good alignment, right?

"I think they've got mine wrong," a voice whispers besides her. She turns to face her neighbor who is currently leaning into her space, not that she minds really. The woman is gorgeous and her blue eyes twinkle conspiratorially.

"You think?" Griselda stares down at her paper and shakes her head. This is the Afterlife they're talking about here; surely, they wouldn't, or rather couldn't, mess up alignments. "I'd have to disagree with you there."

The woman raises a brow in surprise and grabs Griselda's paper from her hands before she can protest. Griselda's surprised about how little she actually wants to do that. She's more content to go with the flow here. Something that would've frightened her had she been living.

"Aw, Lawful Good. No wonder you think they're right," the woman barrels on, handing her back the slip of paper. "That's cute."

"Well, what did you get?" Griselda asks, making grabby hands towards the woman's paper. The woman laughs, light and airy, holding the paper just out of reach. She can faintly make out Percy trying to take control of the room from where he stands, but she continues to reach for the paper, sending out a quick sorry to him in her head.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Griselda huffs as she sits back down in her seat, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."

"Oh, she barks," the woman says, giving her an assessing look and biting her lip in order to hide her smile. She's impressed with her, and Griselda doesn't know why she gets a thrill from knowing that.

Griselda takes a look around the room and leans forward, making the woman lean forward too in amusement and confusion. "I also bite," she whispers to the delight of her neighbor and then she snatches the paper out of the woman's hands.

 _Chaotic Good_ is the alignment of Victoire Weasley.

"I like your name," she states while handing back Victoire's paper.

"I didn't think you had that in you, Griselda," Victoire admits, grinning with all teeth. She can't help but smile back.

Her own paper grows warm in her hands and she glances down to see the letters momentarily shift to _Lshfotic Good_ before settling back to _Lawful Good._

"Attention, please! If you don't heed my instructions, you'll have no idea where to go!" Percy calls out from the front, his clapping seems to be get louder by the second. The room quiets down, and Percy seems awfully smug about it.

"Okay," Percy announces, waving a hand at the wall behind him. "In a moment, I will press a button that will show the Afterlife doors you're meant to walk through. Each door is different and will therefore correspond with the name on your slip."

He pulls a remote from his pocket and presses a button which transforms the front wall into a series of doors. There's a pink door, a beige door, a blue door, a white and blue striped door, and so many different colored doors with labels on them.

"Now, will the Lawful Good follow me?" Percy calls out, walking over to the first door which sports a soft yellow color. He frowns as many people stand. "Hold up, I have a list so don't go thinking any of you will slip past me to another Afterlife."

Percy shakes his head and presses another button on his remote which causes a glow to form around their desks, effectively holding them in place. Griselda looks down and sees that there's no ring of color around her. She looks at Victoire who has a white and blue striped ring around her desk which matches the Chaotic Good door.

She waves goodbye sadly, clutching her piece of paper to her chest as she makes her towards the small group of people already lined up and waiting. She's one of only five. Griselda struggles to get there, biting her lip as Percy double checks on his clipboard before he lets the people into the Lawful Good door.

Turning back to look at Victoire, she sees the other woman conversing with a _Chaotic Good_ man, making wide gestures. An unexpected surge of jealousy flows through. She didn't think she could feel this way about someone who's practically a stranger. Yes, an attractive stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. The intensity of her emotions feel odd, but it doesn't feel wrong.

"Griselda Jorkins, correct?" Percy confirms, tapping his pen on his clipboard. Griselda is about to hand over her paper when she shakes her head and takes a step back.

"What if—" she starts, glancing back to Victoire who's staring back at her sadly, head laying down on her desk. "What if I don't want to go?"

Percy stares at her and shakes his head. "There's an order to everything, and this is the Afterlife your actions have led you to. Don't worry, this is one of the best ones you could've gotten."

"No," she responds with a firm nod.

Percy's eyes twitch. "You're supposed to be the easiest group," he mutters to himself, scanning down the clipboard. "Let me see your paper."

She hands it over. "What is it?" she asks when he sighs.

"I figured it was this. Not just anybody would reject this door. Well, who was it?" He looks back at the others and points to Victoire. "It was her, wasn't it?"

Before she can answer, the ring around Victoire disappears. Victoire's eyes widen and she scrambles to get up, weaving her way through the desks.

"What's going on?"

Percy pushes his glasses up and summons confetti out of nowhere. Maybe he pressed another button. "Congratulations, you're soulmates! This gives you two the option to choose. Now, which afterlife will it be?"

Griselda gasps and takes a closer look at Victoire. It seems Victoire is doing the same thing. This is her _soulmate._ She can't seem to stop smiling.

"Excuse me, which afterlife will it be? There's Chaotic Good and Lawful Good, both equally good choices." Percy clears his throat and pulls the two out of their spell. "Have you decided?"

Victoire glances at the door and she stares at the only unlabeled one with soft brown color. It's the last door on the wall. Griselda follows her eyes and feels a pull. "What if we choose that one?" Victoire asks, body swaying in that direction.

"Oh, no, you can't. That's not an option for you two. It leads back to Earth in case there's any mishap and someone was taken too soon. They get to be reborn again, but that door is not for you. Please choose from the options presented," Percy informs them, squinting his eyes at the pair in a sort of warning.

Victoire smiles and turns to Griselda, rising on her tiptoes to whisper, "We have to go through that door."

Griselda frowns, but there's no doubting the feeling swirling in her stomach. "I'm not so sure about this."

"Just trust me." Victoire presses a soft kiss on her cheek before declaring in a loud voice, "Well, you've been wonderful, and I'll be sure to give the best review I can to your boss, but we really must be leaving now."

"Sorry!" Griselda calls as Victoire grabs her hand and they run towards the last door.

"Wait!" Percy shouts in vain as Victoire swings the door open.

"Oh, and that girl better go through this door too," Griselda calls out just before they cross the threshold.

Percy groans and stares at Griselda's report which has settled on _Chaotic Good._ "It just had to be soulmates."

 **oOo**

On December 6, 1998, Griselda Harmonia Jorkins' birth is announced in the _Daily Prophet_. Two years later, on May 2, 2000 so is Victoire Weasley's birth.


	30. husband number 7

**Written for the QL S6.**

 **Appleby Arrows, Beater 1:** Scream 4. Inspired by the fact Jill tries to frame someone else for her crimes.

 **prompts:** watch (word), toy car (object), aftertaste (word)

 **word count:** 1, 049

* * *

 ** _husband number 7_**

* * *

There's only so much a 7-year-old boy can take before he's pushed to his limit. There's only so much anger he can keep bottled up inside of him till it explodes and kills a few people along the way. His mother really should've seen it coming and so should have her husbands, but they're idiots. All of them. Mother included.

"I don't understand," his mother cries at the funeral, watching as the casket of her third husband gets lowered into the ground. "Why?"

An older cousin hugs him and pats his head. "Oh, Blaise, you shouldn't have to experience so much death."

He nods, letting a few crocodile tears slip by, wiping his face when the guests look away. Then he asks to be excused to his room and his mother nods, placing a kiss on top of his forehead, letting a House Elf escort him. What a bunch of fools. They think he needs space to mourn an old corrupt man.

The man was a joke of a stepfather. Husband number 2 was better than this old fart. At least, his last stepfather pretended to take an interest in him and attempted conversations, all this one did was buy him a mountain of toy cars because that's apparently all a boy needs. Never mind that Blaise has never shown an interest in cars. Now as he walks into his room and stares at the mountain of toy cars, he walks over to his desk where his mother ordered the House Elves to light candles as a way to mourn the dead man.

There's no remorse in his heart when he drops the burning candle and lets it consume the toys. They melt until there's no telling how many toys were once there. He sighs then pinches his thigh hard enough so tears spring to his eyes.

"Help!" he screams, letting panic overtake his voice. He falls to the floor so he's scrambling backwards when his mother, his aunt, and other guests burst into the room. He stares with his wide eyes and sobs harder, bringing his arms up. His aunt, Lilian, scoops him off the floor and gives his mother a glare.

Blaise lets his head burrow into his aunt's chest, heaving his shoulders. It should be jarring for the other people to watch his tiny body trembling.

"I told you those candles were a bad idea and now look what they've done," Aunt Lilian speaks, rubbing small circles on his back. She ignores her mother's protest about showing respect. "I'm going to take Blaise here and leave him with my daughter while we discuss what to do."

"He's my son," his mother says, taking him from his aunt's arms and pressing her forehead against his. "It's okay, baby, I'm here. I'll take care of you forever," she whispers, eyes full of tears.

Blaise nods, biting his lip and lets her take him to her room. She sets him down on the bed, pulling the covers over his body and tucking him in safely. "Stay here until everybody leaves. Sleep, baby."

It's times like these where she acts super sweet that he almost forgets what a neglectful mother she is, and that she's getting what she deserves.

His plan is a slow one, but a sure one.

* * *

"Oh, god, no! Please, stop!" his mother screams as Aurors cuff her hands. Blaise, now 18, watches—according to the Aurors and the people of the jury who will later have their memories searched for any sign of deceit in his mother's body language—in horror, pleading with the Aurors that they're wrong and that they should give his mother a chance to defend herself. He looks and sounds desperate. After all, it's very early in the morning, why wouldn't he be so confused? "Blaise, love, go stay with your aunt! This is wrong. I've never killed anyone ever. You'll all see!"

Blaise nods, tears clouding his vision. He swallows back a sob and rushes forward to hug his mother before the Aurors can Apparate away. The Auror on his right pities him and lets Blaise and his mother hug for five minutes, setting a timer on his watch. Blaise milks it out as long as he can, sweet and caring words flow out of his mouth and his mother's. He doubts she means her words too. The five minutes end so slowly. Ugh, his mother left snot all over his shirt.

(In court, they'll describe him as a loving and obviously scared son who knew nothing about his mother's killing. They'll see him become distraught as he gives his testimonies, unknowingly to him, or so they'll believe, provide just enough evidence to link his mother to all her late husbands' murders.)

Soon after the Aurors leave, Blaise calmly packs a bag, pinching his thigh—an old habit he picked up when he was young to produce quick tears; it's effective so he still uses it—then Apparates to his Aunt Lilian's manor.

After she sees his face, she instantly knows why he's there, ranting about her irresponsible cash-hungry sister under her breath. She instantly sits him down to finish breakfast.

"Don't you worry," she says, sitting him down beside his cousin. "You finish eating and we'll get this all sorted out. Just know your mother loves you and you're always welcomed here."

Blaise is all smiles and polite words. He knows they'll never get this sorted out. His mother will be charged with the murders of seven dead men with the movie being a new shiny bank account. She's a Pureblood so many members would love to see her convicted, especially because they'll be so much evidence against her which is very rare when dealing with Pureblood cases. They have a knack of being sparkly clean against all searches. Not his mother, he'll personally guarantee her conviction.

Of course, he's the true 'criminal' or 'murderer', have your choice of name. His motive is easy: he hates his mother. That's it. She has a lousy taste of men who are rich and vile, and she's a crap mother. She's abusive both physically and mentally while also being neglectful, but when she mourns, she's kind, so his only option really is to make sure she's always mourning.

Blaise takes a sip of orange juice and the aftertaste is sweet, just like this day has been.


	31. Home

**Hogwarts: Geography, Task 8: write a utopia or a luxurious place**

Note: I chose to write about a personal utopia to someone

 **Word count:** 556

* * *

 ** _Home_**

* * *

Leaves crunch under his boots as he makes his way through the forest grounds. He adjusts the straps of his backpack just in case something happens. He can never be too sure these days. The scars covering his face are a major giveaway as to what he is.

A monster.

Someone that deserves to die because he's dangerous. He's a slave to the moon and that in itself is a crime. He's seen others, another werewolf here or there, on occasion, but they avoid him like the plague. See, the others can hide their identities until the moon arrives. But Remus is stuck with physical reminders on his body and face from when he tore himself up as a child, unable to stop his wolf.

It's why he lives in the forest. Always on the move from woods to woods. If he stays too comfortable, there's a chance someone can spot him and shoot him. It's what he deserves if he's being honest. But his inner wolf won't let him kill himself.

It tells him that there's something to live for even if Remus can't possibly guess the reason.

A sharp scent fills the air and Remus stills in his tracks. There's no disguising the scent of another wolf. He just hopes it's a peaceful one. He's only got so many supplies left that he can't afford to get into another fight.

"Hello," a deep voice says to his right, standing a few yards away. "Please don't be scared, but I'm here to offer you a proposition."

"How can I trust you?" Remus asks, grabbing the straps of his backpacks, feet positioned to run. The man doesn't look dangerous, but that's not always the case with some. In fact, there's a big smile on his face, exposing shiny white teeth. He's dressed in quality winter clothes so unlike the tattered and dirty clothes Remus wears. He is rather handsome with sharp cheekbones and gray eyes.

"My name is Sirius Black, and I know a place where you don't have to run anymore," Sirius says, taking a brochure out of his pocket and holds it out to him. Remus cautiously walks over and flips through it. There's a town called Godric's Hollow that is now the first legal werewolf inclusive. "I'm going through different forests to speak with werewolves like you who might not know about the changes in legislation. Please come with me. You'll love it."

Remus' heart is pounding. Can it be true? Is this real? "How far away are we?" he whispers, clutching the brochure to his chest.

Sirius grins and tilts his head to the east. "Not far off. C'mon then, we better get a move on. You have so much to tell me about yourself."

It takes a while to get there, but Sirius makes it fun and entertaining. He's very charming and obviously knows he's handsome. Remus finds himself wanting to know more about him too. When they reach the town limit and he sees the sign, Remus breaks down into tears.

In an instant, Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulder and smiles tearfully. "This is only the beginning, Remus. You're safe here. You can stop running."

As he walks into town and receives only smiles from the townsfolk, Remus thinks he might have found somewhere he can call home.


	32. Adventure

**Hogwarts: Geography, Task 2: write about a lost city, or write an Atlantis! AU**

 _er, I kind of did both? :)_

 **Word count:** 351

* * *

 ** _Adventure_**

* * *

"Are you sure you want to go?" His cousin, Rose, asks as Albus takes the breathing underwater potion. She so gracefully volunteered to see him off on his adventure. "It's going to be dreadfully boring on land without you there."

Albus laughs, shoving his cousin's shoulder. "You're just bitter that your dad didn't let you go."

Rose huffs, crossing her arms. She rests her arms on the rail of the docking boat, watching idly as he prepares to perform the spell that'll grant him a tail to swim to Atlantis too. "He didn't _not_ let me go. I've just got to go pick up Hugo from his dance lessons. I can't believe I have to wait until tomorrow to explore Atlantis. I'm the one with the fascination of the lost city recently discovered! Life sucks."

"Sorry! Love you, bye!" Albus shouts as he jumps into the ocean, one among the many other wizards doing the same. He submerges himself and mentally casting the spell. He gasps as his legs stick together and scales begin to cover him. His gills breathe for him as his body settles into his new tail.

Merlin, he's been waiting for this forever. He's practiced swimming in the pool, so he has full control of his tail. He grins and he flicks his tail and begins swimming down toward the city. It's a while before he can catch the glittering walls of Atlantis and can see various mermaids and mermen swimming about welcoming the tourists.

He passes the borders custom easily and waits over by the giant statue. It's not a second longer that a merman throws himself at Albus, peppering kisses all over his face. Albus grins and pulls his boyfriend into a giant hug. They share a brief kiss before giggling to each other.

"Are you ready to explore the city, love?" Scorpius asks him, interlocking their hands. It's amazing to see Scorpius in his element in the water and not walking when he studied abroad at Hogwarts.

Albus nods and holds on tight, the butterflies in his stomach flying like mad. "With you? Always."


End file.
